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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449171">For Blue Skies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_magic/pseuds/mad_magic'>mad_magic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Background becho, Doctor Clarke Griffin, Eventual Smut, Exes, F/M, Getting Back Together, Hot Tub Sex, Jealousy, Mama Clarke, Slow Burn, Teacher Bellamy Blake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:08:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>62,309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_magic/pseuds/mad_magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, they always end up back here.</p><p>But this time is different. Almost as if they needed to be here, on the doorstep of their home, the memories of their life together strewn above them like stars in the night sky.</p><p>She remembers how they once burned brightly.</p><p>“I gave you everything I had, Clarke. I know it wasn’t much, but,” he shrugs a bit helplessly as if to cover up the wet sheen in his eyes. “I loved you. And that wasn’t enough.”</p><p>—</p><p>Their story isn’t over. Six years after their break-up, Clarke comes home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>661</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. where do I begin?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys! First, I hope you all are staying safe out there. </p><p>This story has been living in my head for a while now and I needed to write it, you know? So I hope it helps make this quarantine and hiatus better. I'm really excited to share it 😊</p><p>Buckle up, kids. This is gonna get angsty. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Her knuckles turn white from their tight grip on the steering wheel. Clarke meets blue eyes in the mirror’s reflection. </p><p>“You’ve got this,” she tells herself. “You’ve got this.” </p><p>The mantra does little to help her nerves. But the time on her dad's watch says she has to go inside. </p><p>The front doors of Arkadia General Hospital loom in front of her. Clarke’s stomach swoops at the sight. She ignores the voice inside her head shrieking that this is a mistake and she should <em>run</em>. Turn back right now, get into her car and leave this town behind. </p><p><em> No more running, </em>Clarke vows to herself. </p><p>She practically grew up inside the pristine walls of Arkadia General. The hospital doesn’t look that different since the last time she was here six years ago. It might be the only thing unchanged. Still, the familiarity doesn’t offer much comfort.</p><p>Nerves hum under her skin as she makes her way to the office for the Chief of Surgery. The gleaming plaque on the door reads <em> Thelonious Jaha, M.D.  </em></p><p>She knocks once and a deep voice welcomes her inside. Dr. Jaha’s face breaks into a bright grin at the sight of her stepping into his office.</p><p>“Clarke Griffin.” </p><p>It’s unusual for your boss to greet you with a rather fond hug. But Thelonious Jaha isn’t just her new boss. He’s her godfather and was her dad’s closest friend. Clarke can’t help but close her eyes into the embrace. </p><p>Dr. Jaha steps back, resting his hands on her shoulders to get a look at her. “You’ve grown into such a fine young woman, Clarke.” </p><p>The praise makes her duck her head slightly. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.” </p><p>She moves to sit in the cushioned seat while Dr. Jaha rounds his desk. </p><p>“I’m thrilled to have you on board here,” he continues warmly. “One of the most promising surgical residents in the country. Hopkins must have been disappointed to lose you. But, well, their loss is our gain, right?” </p><p>Clarke crosses one leg over the other. She tries not to let herself get sidetracked by pleasantries. They could spend all day here reminiscing over old times and discussing how Wells is doing in the Air Force. </p><p>But Clarke isn’t here for that. She’s here to do her job and the last thing she wants is to make the impression that she earned this position out of favoritism, instead of her own merit. </p><p>“So,” Clarke starts, “what am I going to start with today?” </p><p>That does the trick of shifting her godfather back into the Chief of Surgery.</p><p>They get into the discussion for her first day at the hospital, going more in-depth to her responsibilities than they did on the informal phone interview when she accepted the job.  </p><p>When they’re done, Dr. Jaha walks her down to the residents’ lounge where she’ll be able to get changed into her scrubs. A few other doctors are in the lounge having coffee in between rounds and catching up on notes. </p><p>Clarke doesn’t recognize any of the faces, but they still stare after her. The new blood. </p><p>“Good luck, Dr. Griffin,” Dr. Jaha says, reaching out to shake her hand. “I’m sure you’ll make us proud.” </p><p>With that, he leaves the lounge and Clarke lets out a breath. She got the first awkward encounter from her past over with. It wasn’t too bad. Then again, Thelonious never hated her. Not like everybody else does. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Her first day and it only takes a handful of hours to cause a scene. </p><p>Clarke is put to work in the ER. Ironically, being thrown into the chaos of the Emergency Room settles her nerves.</p><p>Clarke is built for this, for remaining the calm and cool head in the throes of a storm. She ran the ER in top shape at her old hospital. </p><p>She’s in her element. Her hands are steady as she flits from patient to patient, her mind clear. She has to change her scrubs already, but blood has never bothered her. The nurses are more competent than the interns, as expected and Clarke is mostly on her own in the swarm. </p><p>She doesn’t mind though. The new girl gets the brunt work. That’s just paying her dues. And Clarke has gotten used to being alone by now. </p><p>After a brief lunch—meaning an apple and a bottle of water—Clarke returns to the ER to find a commotion happening by one of the patient beds.</p><p>She charges over to find out what’s going on, getting in the middle of two interns loudly arguing. </p><p>“Hey!” Clarke calls out. “Lower your voices. What’s the matter with you two?” </p><p>The girl shoves the patient’s chart at the other’s chest. “He’s your patient. <em> Your </em> problem.” </p><p>The male intern’s eyes are swollen with horror when she marches away. <em>Miles</em>, his badge says.</p><p>Clarke cocks a brow at him and the boy stutters through his reply. “The patient—he’s <em> difficult. </em>No one wants to deal with him.” </p><p>She rolls her eyes. “Seriously? You’re here to treat his injury. Not assess his personality.” </p><p>Clarke swipes the chart out of his hands and reads over the notes scrawled down.</p><p>The patient arrived from the scene of a car accident and presents with shoulder pain and a headache. Possible concussion. It’s the most basic of cases and she can’t believe she has to babysit this one. </p><p>“Call Radiology,” she barks at the intern. “He needs a Head CT. Go.” </p><p>The intern scurries off like he can’t get away fast enough. Clarke has dealt with her fair share of obnoxious, rude and even homophobic patients in her time. She’s not intimidated by a cranky man with a bad headache. </p><p>That is until Clarke hears the voice loudly complaining and swearing behind the curtain. A chill sweeps down her spine. </p><p>She'd know that voice in a sea of thousands. The deep, gravelly tone is the same after six years. </p><p>Bellamy Blake. Her ex-boyfriend. </p><p>Clarke squeezes her eyes shut. <em> Son of a bitch</em>. </p><p>Of course, he’s here at the hospital. Of course, he’s here, back in her life, before she has the chance to figure out how to face him. There’s no time to prepare herself or slow down the frantic racing of her pulse. </p><p>Clarke clutches the chart, steels herself, and pushes the curtain aside. </p><p>“Fucking finally!” Bellamy erupts from where he’s seated on the bed. “I’ve been here for two hours! How long does it take—”</p><p>He cuts off when he sees her. His mouth falls open, his eyes wide. Clarke knows the feeling. She’s stunned, speechless, at the sight of him too. </p><p>Six years since she last looked into those deep brown eyes. She drinks in Bellamy Blake like he’s the last drop of water and she’s parched. Those eyes might be the only part of him that she recognizes. </p><p>His face is different, sharper, a man over thirty compared to the twenty-five-year-old she knew. There’s dark scuff lining his jaw that wasn’t there before. His hair is changed too, shorter, not the mess of dark curls she loved. He’s filled out, put on some weight, but he carries it well. </p><p><em> Very </em>well. Damn it. He’s still so fucking hot. </p><p>She isn't ready for this. At all. How can she not lose it, just a little bit, being faced with the man that was once the love of her life?</p><p>The man whose heart she ripped apart and walked away from. </p><p>Somehow, Clarke remembers how to form words. Her voice is cooly professional, with the only the slightest waver running underneath it. </p><p>“Mr. Blake.” Her eyes drop to his chart unnecessarily. “My mine is Dr.—”</p><p>“Are you kidding me, Clarke?” Bellamy demands, tone scathing enough to make her jump. “You’re gonna act like you don’t recognize me?” </p><p>This she remembers all too well. The fire that makes up Bellamy’s soul. He’s always been <em>too much </em>for most to handle. Too loud, too bright, too emotional.</p><p>And if he’s the sun that will burn the world down, then she is the moon. Cold. Dark. Untouchable. </p><p>“I recognize you,” she says calmly. “I’m trying not to make a scene.” </p><p>Bellamy lets out an ugly scoff. His eyes are hard, calcified with hatred. “No, you wouldn’t. God forbid you ever show an emotion, Clarke. Then people will think that you care.”</p><p>Clarke bursts. “Of course I care!”  </p><p>“You could’ve fooled me,” he sneers at her. </p><p>Her teeth clench. Clarke refuses to let her professional mask slip. She’s at work. She will not get into a screaming match with her ex. Bellamy always knew how to worm his way under her skin, get a rise of her. Not anymore. </p><p>She glances at the chart, away from the stare of the man she loved eroding through her like acid. “You’ve been in a car accident. I need to examine you—”</p><p>“No,” he hisses. “No fucking way. I don't need your help.” </p><p>Clarke flinches. The venom in his voice cuts deep, slices right through her. He hates her. </p><p><em> Well, what did you expect? </em> She reminds herself. <em> You left him.  </em></p><p>It takes a moment, but Clarke grounds herself again. He’s a patient. She’s his doctor. </p><p>“Don’t be stupid. You’re injured, Bellamy. You don’t have to like it, but I’m here to treat you.” </p><p>“We’re in a hospital,” he snaps. “Surely, there’s another doctor that can handle some stitches.” </p><p>Clarke ignores his comment as she snaps on a pair of latex gloves. She puts on the tone reserved for difficult patients—an unshakable politeness. “It’s more than a couple of stitches. I’m going to examine your shoulder now.” </p><p>Bellamy stiffens as soon as she comes near him. It hurts. She has to wade through the pain, reminds herself it’s no less than she deserves. </p><p>He grimaces when her hands touch his right shoulder, unable to mask his discomfort. The joint has been dislocated. He’s going to hate her even more, but the best way to handle this is for her to pop it back into place. </p><p>“What?” Bellamy demands when she stands back. “What is it?” </p><p>“Your shoulder was dislocated during the car crash.” </p><p>He knows what that means without her having to explain. Bellamy got into a lot of fights when they were younger. This isn’t the first time he’s hurt his shoulder or broken bones. </p><p>She remembers the time he skinned his knee when trying to climb in through her bedroom window at her parents’ house. He pretended to make a fuss, just so she would giggle and kiss him better. </p><p>His body has an anthology of scars.  Not that she’s thinking about what his body looks like. No. That would be unprofessional. </p><p>He scowls at the floor. “Just do it.” </p><p>She hates the groan of pain he makes when the joint is put back into place. What hurts worse is what he says after. “Bet you enjoyed that.” </p><p>Clarke turns away, her lips pressed into a tight line. There’s no point in arguing with him. Not here. She focuses on examining the rest of his injuries, double-checking his vitals and for signs of a concussion. </p><p>“I don’t think you have a concussion. We’ll have to run some scans to make sure. In the meantime, I can get you something for the pain.” </p><p>The air between is swollen with tension as Clarke scribbles the notes in his chart. She can feel her heart threatening to pound through her chest.</p><p>She doesn’t think Bellamy will speak at all, but that just goes to show how little she knows him now. </p><p>“So you’re back, then.” </p><p>Her head is lowered as she writes. He can’t see the nervous way she bites her lower lip. “Yes. I moved back two days ago.” </p><p>“For how long this time?” </p><p>His question is rhetorical. A chance to vent his anger. He doesn’t expect a real answer out of her. But Clarke is going to give him one.  </p><p>“For good,” she says firmly. When he scoffs derisively, she points out, “My contract with the hospital is for five years.” </p><p>Bellamy’s mouth twists into a bitter smile. “You promised to love me for the rest of our lives. That didn’t stop you from running away.” </p><p>There’s nothing she can say in defense of that. She has to take the blow that it was intended as. </p><p>Clarke’s eyes sting as she stares at the paper, her version blurred. Her breathing is shallow and she hopes that he can’t hear it. </p><p>“Uh. Excuse me, Dr. Griffin?” </p><p>Clarke blinks the tears away. She clears her throat until the ache dissolves. “For God’s sake, get in here.” </p><p>The curtain moves aside, allowing Miles to peer through. She isn't sure who the boy is more intimidated by. Her or Bellamy. “They’re ready for the patient in Radiology.” </p><p>Clarke finishes updating his chart and passes it off to the intern. “Great. Take him there.” </p><p>She manages to cross the emergency room without anyone stopping her. Her pager beeps again, but she ignores the sound. Clarke takes herself straight into the nearest supply closet she can find. </p><p>When the door shuts behind her, the sobs escape. She’s helpless against the tide of emotions that slam into her.</p><p>Clarke presses a hand over her mouth to muffle the cries. Her shoulders tremble as the hot tears leak out of her eyes. </p><p>
  <em> He hates me. He hates me. He hates me.  </em>
</p><p>Bellamy’s cold eyes stare at her from the back of her mind. She sees his bitter smile, hears his casually cruel words, all of it just a front for the pain <em>she</em> caused him.</p><p>There is no trace of the man that used to hold her like nothing in this world was more precious to him. </p><p>The man whose warmth she carried in her heart wherever she went, the man that whispered that he loved her every night they were together, he is gone. </p><p>Clarke mourns for him in that closet the way she never let herself in six years. With miles and time stretched between them, she could pretend that he was just a memory from her past.</p><p>Here, he is real. And she has nowhere to hide from him. </p><p>Her pager chimes again. She has to pull the tattered pieces of herself together and get back to work. </p><p>When her breathing is normal, Clarke leaves the closet and heads into a restroom to wash her face. She does her best to clean herself up, remove any trace of her breakdown. </p><p>Clarke looks at her reflection again. She’s stronger than this. She knew she was doing when she agreed to move back to Arkadia and face her past. </p><p>
  <em> You made your choice. Now you have to live with it. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>By the time her shift ends, Clarke is a dead woman walking. Exhaustion weighs down her bones. </p><p>Bellamy is discharged not long after his scans are done. She doesn’t see him again, which is for the best. In her tired state, the slightest comment will cause her to burst into tears right in front of him. </p><p>She forces herself to shower at the hospital and then she’s climbing into her car, on the way to pick up Madi from her mom’s. </p><p>Her mother appears fine when she lets Clarke in. She also evidently notices that she’s being looked over. </p><p>“I have done this before, Clarke. I can manage a six-year-old.” </p><p>Clarke gives her an apologetic smile. “I know.” </p><p>It’s not about her mom. Not really. For her whole life, all Madi had was Clarke. She’s not fully comfortable leaving her daughter with anyone. Even her own flesh and blood. </p><p>Still, she’s grateful for her mother’s help. “Thank you for watching her.” </p><p>“Don’t mention it.” Her mom brushes Clarke’s hair out of her face, just like she did when she was a little girl. “She’s welcome anytime.” </p><p>Abby fills her in on the day they had. There was a trip to the park where her stepfather Marcus played soccer with Madi. They had the picnic lunch that Clarke prepared for them earlier. After returning home, Madi convinced them to watch a movie with her until Marcus fell asleep on the couch. </p><p>Clarke chuckles at that. “He didn’t.” </p><p>Her mother smiles fondly. “Your dad did the same thing, remember?” </p><p>She does. Nobody could ever replace her father. There isn’t a day in Madi’s life that Clarke doesn’t wish her dad could have met her. But there is still something special about Madi having Marcus for a grandfather. </p><p>“She’s been in the room for a while,” Abby says, leading her down the hallway to the guest room. </p><p>Her daughter is sprawled on her stomach, legs kicking in the air as she draws in her sketchbook. She looks up hearing them enter and her face lights up. “Hey, mom!” </p><p>Clarke’s battered heart is healed, seeing her little girl like this. Happy and safe, like she always wants her to be. </p><p>Clarke steps into the room, coming over to run a hand down her daughter’s hair. “Hi, sweetie. What are you drawing?” </p><p>Madi shows her the sketch of the park. Her grandmother is sitting on a bench in the sunshine while Madi is holding hands with Marcus, a soccer ball lying between them. </p><p>Clarke smiles. “That’s lovely, Madi.” </p><p>“She has your natural talent,” Abby agrees. </p><p>It’s a nice thought. Madi may have not inherited her artistic talents biologically, but she could have learned them. Her daughter loves to draw. The walls of their apartment are covered in her colorful sketches. </p><p>“Time to go, baby. Grab your things.” </p><p>They pack up Madi’s bag with her array of toys, books, and snacks. Abby walks them to the front door, stopping Clarke just before she walks out with a touch on the arm. </p><p>“I forgot to ask. How was your first day?” </p><p>“Long,” Clarke answers. That’s as honest as she can be. She’s not going to talk about Bellamy Blake with her mom. Possibly not ever.</p><p>Just as her mother starts to frown, Clarke is quick to assure her. “Thelonious was very welcoming. I think it’s going to be a good fit, once I find my rhythm.” </p><p>“That’s good to hear. I’m proud of you, Clarke.” </p><p>“Thanks, mom.” </p><p>She bids her mother goodnight, taking hold of Madi’s hand as they walk down the driveway.</p><p>She gets her daughter buckled into the backseat. Madi chats excitedly about her day with her grandparents for about ten minutes before she falls asleep. </p><p>Clarke scoops her daughter into her arms when they reach home. Thinking of the apartment building as <em>home </em>is a bit of a stretch, for now. She’s still missing their quaint little place in Polis. Arkadia doesn’t feel like home either. She hopes that will change. </p><p>Madi’s head droops onto her pillow. The real challenge is getting her daughter to brush her teeth before bed. Madi only whines a little, mostly half-asleep. </p><p>She tucks her daughter in. Madi wraps her small arms around the stuffed lion she likes to sleep with. “Mom, can you tell me a story?” </p><p>This is Madi’s favorite part of their nighttime ritual. Clarke takes a seat on the edge of her bed. “Of course. What story do you want to hear tonight?” </p><p>Madi thinks for a minute before her blue eyes gleam. “The one about the gift of fire!” </p><p>Clarke recites the myth of Prometheus and how he stole the lightning bolt from Zeus as a gift for humanity. She leaves out the part of him being chained up and having his liver eaten. </p><p>Maybe one day she’ll get to tell Bellamy about the nighttime ritual with her daughter and the stories Clarke shares with her—stories that she first learned from Bellamy. It used to be <em>their </em>ritual a long time ago. </p><p>Clarke would lay on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat and ask, “Tell me a story, Bell.” </p><p>She’s not the talented storyteller that Bellamy is, but she does her best to entertain her daughter. Soon enough, Madi’s eyes have drifted close again. </p><p>Clarke presses a kiss to the crown of her daughter’s head and slips out the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. all you are is history</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi fam! Thanks so much for the feedback this fic has gotten. So excited to keep it rolling. </p><p>Fair warning, there is some Becho in this chapter. I don't care for their ship, but it's relevant to this story and how I would like to resolve the "love triangle". </p><p>This fic is partly inspired by s5 and s6 so there are some canon elements we have to get through before the happy ending. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>He must have been a murderer in a past life. That would explain why the Universe has so much shit lined up for him. This kind of shitty luck is reserved for karmic punishment. </p><p>Bellamy is already having a bad day. He’s running late to work and gets into a car crash about two miles away from his house.</p><p>Some lady talking on her phone doesn’t break on time and slams into the back of his car. Now there’s a sizable dent in his bumper that he can’t afford to repair.</p><p>Dealing with the accident is enough to make Bellamy want to rip his hair out. He just wants to be on his way. But the cop decides that the bleeding from his head is serious enough to call the rescue. </p><p>Bellamy insists that he’s fine. He can take himself to the ER after work. Or, to himself, he thinks that Jackson can take care of stitching him up and he can avoid the expensive hospital bill altogether. </p><p>The paramedics ignore his protests and urge him into the back of the rig. He loses his phone in the shuffle, but he bets that it’s ringing and blowing up with messages from the school. He’s two hours late to work. </p><p>For all the fuss over his injuries at the scene, Bellamy still has to sit in the waiting room, seething, before he’s brought in.</p><p>Some kid that looks too young to be a doctor has him sit on a cot and asks him about a hundred annoying questions. </p><p>“Are you experiencing any pain, Mr. Blake?” </p><p>“My head hurts like a bitch,” he growls bluntly. </p><p>The kid’s mouth’s drops open like he’s never heard an adult swear before. </p><p>Bellamy rolls his eyes and that fucking hurts to do. “Look, kid. Just give me some damn ibuprofen and throw on some stitches so I can get out of here.”  </p><p>“Uh—”</p><p>The curtain surrounding them is snatched away and another girl dressed in scrubs sticks her head in. Bellamy loses his patience entirely when the two of them stand outside his cubicle and start yelling at each other over who he belongs to. </p><p>Bellamy rubs his throbbing temple. This day can’t possibly get worse. </p><p>Ah, but he speaks too soon. Because the next time the curtain is moved aside, it’s his ex-girlfriend that joins him.</p><p>That decides it for Bellamy. This Emergency Room is actually an undiscovered circle of Hell. </p><p>Clarke Griffin. </p><p>He can’t take his eyes off her. His body is a traitor for the way it reacts to her—the way it has <em>always </em>reacted to her. Her blonde hair is thrown into a messy bun and she has on scrubs littered in stains but she’s...beautiful. </p><p>He used to call her his goddess. She’d tease him for being cheesy. Her beauty is ethereal to him. He would worship at the temple of her body, press kisses into the gentle ivory of her skin. </p><p>That was a long time ago. That girl is dead. </p><p>This Clarke is cut from marble. She has all the warmth and familiarity of a statue. Unknowable. Her beauty is cold and impenetrable.   </p><p>He has no idea what she’s thinking, if she expected to see him here. What is she doing here?</p><p>He tears his eyes away from her face long enough to register the lab coat and the badge clipped to her person. She’s a doctor. She must have gone to medical school wherever the fuck she disappeared to when she left. </p><p>Well, good for her. She accomplished her career goals. Got everything she wanted for herself. </p><p>
  <em> Without him.  </em>
</p><p>Of course. She never needed Bellamy or anyone else. She is Clarke fucking Griffin. </p><p>Seeing her in front of him again is a lot like being in that car accident. It comes out of nowhere, crashing into his world, and pieces are breaking away from him that he can’t hold onto. Can’t catch his breath. </p><p>He registers, vaguely, that they’re talking. He’s being a dick. He knows he is, but being in the same room as her has his defenses raised high. Bellamy can’t let her get the upper hand on him again, can’t leave any part of him vulnerable. </p><p>
  <em> Attack, attack, attack.  </em>
</p><p>She’s calm. How is she so calm? Bellamy feels like he could burst wide open with all of the emotions thundering inside of him right now. Anger is the loudest, beating in his blood. </p><p>He wants to grab her arms and <em>shake </em>her. He wishes she would make a scene. This cold shell with the shiny lab coat and detached voice isn’t Clarke. Not his Clarke. </p><p>“So you’re back, then.” </p><p>The words slip past his teeth. The thing is, he needs to know. Bellamy doesn’t care what she’s doing with her life these days. If she’s married or seeing someone, if she’s happy to be home or miserable, returning with her tail between her legs.</p><p>He doesn’t give a shit about the details. But he needs to know if she’s going to stay or disappear again and he can write off this encounter, stick it into the box with the rest of her, out of sight. </p><p>“Yes. I moved back two days ago.” </p><p>“For how long this time?” </p><p>“For good. My contract with the hospital is for five years.” </p><p>Clarke speaks about the contract as if that’s supposed to mean something. As if she can be trusted at her word when they both know that is complete bullshit. She’ll cut her ties and leave everything behind if it suits her. She’s done it before. </p><p>Bellamy meets her eyes before he speaks. He’s hungry for the reaction he might wrench out of her. “You promised to love me for the rest of our lives. That didn’t stop you from running away.” </p><p><em> There</em>. The flash of pain in those pretty blue eyes before she ducks her head. </p><p>The victory is hollow. He doesn’t feel any better causing her pain. Actually, he feels <em>worse</em>. This is who they are now, two opponents facing each other, standing on the charred ground of their past relationship. </p><p>He won’t pour his heart out at her feet ever again. She’s not going to get the satisfaction or whatever she’s looking for by knowing what her leaving did to him. Not closure, sure as hell not forgiveness. He’s giving her nothing. </p><p>She leaves again, pawns him off to the incompetent intern to deal with. Bellamy shakes his head, watching her go. He’s not convinced this was real and not some hallucination he’s suffering because of brain damage. </p><p>It wouldn’t be the first time he’s dreamt of seeing her again. </p><p>His next hour at the hospital is only slightly less torturous. They take some scans of his head and his shoulder, rule out the concussion officially and finally discharge him with a set of meds. He’s supposed to come back in a week to remove the stitches on his face. </p><p>Echo is sitting in her car, waiting for him outside the hospital. Her eyes are worried, assessing him as he climbs into the passenger seat, but she manages a smile. “Hey, Frankenstein.” </p><p>Bellamy’s mouth quirks. “Cute. You know the doctor’s name is Frankenstein, right? Not the monster.” </p><p>“Smartass.” Echo leans over to kiss him. She touches his cheek gently. “You okay?” </p><p>“I’m fine. It was more of a pain in the ass really.” </p><p>Echo nods, eyes back on the road as she navigates them out of the parking lot. “Oh, damn. So I won’t have to be waiting on you hand and foot this week. Guess I should return the nurse’s outfit.” </p><p>Bellamy grins. “You’re off the hook. I <em> will </em>take a sponge bath if you’re offering.” </p><p>His girlfriend cuts him a look. “I’m not.” </p><p>Echo has to get back to work. He appreciates that she doesn’t hover or fuss over him once he’s settled at the apartment. She takes care of having his car brought home, leaves take-out leftovers prepared for him in the kitchen, and drops a kiss on his head. </p><p>“I’ll see you tonight. Call me if you need anything.” </p><p>Once she’s gone, Bellamy pulls out the meds the hospital gave him and throws back the pills. His head is still killing him. His only plan for the evening is to pass out in his bed. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bellamy is grading papers at his desk. It’s been a few days since the car accident. His shoulder twinges occasionally, but it’s nothing that he can’t handle. </p><p>Amusement distracts him from any pain. He gave his students a report on Pompeii. The results are an interesting read, to say the least. He got a good group of kids this year. They’re a smart and creative bunch. </p><p>His phone vibrates on his desk. Bellamy glances at the screen, sees <em> Nate Miller </em>calling, and swipes to answer. “Hello?” </p><p>Miller snorts in his ear. “Man, why do you always answer like that? You know it’s me. It’s the 21st century. We have caller I.D.” </p><p>“It’s proper phone etiquette.” </p><p>“<em>Etiquette</em>,” Miller mocks. “Bellamy, I once saw you pissing behind a Taco Bell. We passed being ‘polite’ a long fucking time ago.” </p><p>“Is this the reason you called me? A lecture on how to answer <em>my </em>phone? Because I have work to do, Miller.” </p><p>His old friend laughs. “Nah, that’s not why I called. Uh. Did you know Clarke’s back in town?” </p><p>Bellamy’s jaw clenches. His good mood is sucked away like water down a drain. He’s been trying to ignore that fact for the past several days and he doesn’t want a reminder of its existence. </p><p>Miller takes his stony silence as confirmation. “Harper ran into her today. She has a—”</p><p>“<em>Miller.</em>” He cuts him off. “I don’t want to hear about it, okay?” </p><p>“Yeah, okay. I just...wanted to see how you were holding up.” </p><p>Bellamy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly? I saw her already. And it was about as goddamn awful as you can expect.” </p><p>Miller hisses in sympathy. “Shit. Where?” </p><p>“The ER. She was there when they brought me in.” Bellamy can feel his blood pressure rising, a headache blooming in his temples. “Look, I just want to forget it even happened. She’s here. Whatever.” </p><p>There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line. “Come on, man. You know it’s not <em> whatever </em>.” </p><p>“It is,” Bellamy insists. His voice echoes in the home office, louder than he intends. “I don’t care. We don’t know each other anymore. She made sure of that.” </p><p>“So you’re not going to be seeing her? Trying to reconnect or something?” </p><p>He scoffs. “No. Fuck no. That’s not going to happen.” </p><p>Miller lets out a breath. “Okay, good. Just checking. Because you have a big, dumb blind spot when it comes to Clarke Griffin. I don’t want you doing anything stupid.”</p><p>“Not anymore. All of that is in the past. And it’s going to stay there.” </p><p>He chats with Miller for a few more minutes. They agree to meet up with everyone else that night at The Lantern. His friend’s main reason for calling, though, is to make sure he isn’t going to fall into the trap of Clarke Griffin again. </p><p>Bellamy can appreciate the concern. He knows Miller is just looking out for him. But it’s not necessary. He and Clarke, whoever she is now, are different people living different lives. He has no intention of getting to know her. </p><p>After thirty-one years on earth, Bellamy has plenty of evidence that the Universe doesn’t give a shit about his intentions. </p><p>He should have guessed Harper would invite Clarke out. And not tell anyone about it, other than Monty, so Bellamy doesn’t bail on the evening. He would have if he had known she was going to show up and try to apologize. </p><p>“Hey, Clarke,” Harper greets her warmly. “You made it.” </p><p>Bellamy doesn’t want to look at her, but he can’t look away. </p><p>She appears in front of the table like an apparition from his nightmares. Her lips are shiny and stained from whatever cocktail she had at the bar. The jeans she’s wearing are sinfully tight. Compared to the loose scrubs, the jeans leave no curve to the imagination. </p><p>It’s her eyes that are the worst though. The most stunning blue. Big and pleading, filled to the brim with regret. God. She’s <em>killing </em>him. </p><p>“Look,” Clarke says, speaking to all of them. “I understand why you’re upset. I’m here because I want to make things right.” </p><p>He’s forced to stay seated at the table and feel like the walls are closing in on him. Heat prickles under his skin and the back of his neck. He’s choking on his anger, but his jaw stays locked tight, sealed. </p><p>At least he’s not the only person that thinks it’s bullshit. Raven and Emori take the words right out of his mouth. He doesn’t have to say a thing. </p><p>“Just go, Clarke,” Raven dismisses her “None of us are interested in you pretending to feel bad about your decisions.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Clarke murmurs, “for what I did, for leaving like that. I don’t have a good excuse for it. I just came here to apologize.” </p><p>She doesn’t stay long. Clarke is only in front of them for maybe five minutes, but it feels like longer, so much longer, when she’s gone and Bellamy can breathe again. </p><p>“Guys.” Harper frowns at them disapprovingly once Clarke has left the bar. “I didn’t invite her here for an ambush.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t have invited her at all,” Raven snipes. “What the hell, Harper?” </p><p>“She was trying to help,” Monty jumps in to defend his wife. </p><p>Bellamy tunes out the sounds of their bickering. Vaguely, he registers that Echo is rubbing his tense shoulders. Seeing Clarke again has the same whiplash feeling as the first time. He can’t find his balance. The world rocks unsteadily around him. </p><p>“What do you think she’s doing back anyway?” Emori asks, taking a sip of her beer. The petty squabbling seems to have worked itself out without his interference. </p><p>“Who cares?” Raven grumbles. </p><p>Miller turns his head to glance at her curiously. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Reyes? Bellamy’s the one that got dumped by her.” He winces at Bellamy. “Sorry, bro.” </p><p>Raven narrows her eyes at Miller. “What kind of question is that? She didn’t just leave Bellamy. She left all of us! Without even saying goodbye, she just walked out of our lives. Ignored our messages! Now she thinks she can waltz back in like nothing happened?” </p><p>“We don’t know the whole story,” Monty says, always the voice of reason. From beside him, Harper nods in agreement. “Maybe we can hear what she has to say.” </p><p>Raven scoffs. “Not fucking likely.” </p><p>Emori tilts her head and asks Harper, “Do you know something we don’t?” </p><p>All of them stop to look at Harper when she bites her lip. </p><p>“<em>Harper</em>,” Emori presses. </p><p>“It’s not my business to share,” Harper replies. “You’re going to have to talk to Clarke yourselves.” </p><p>“Do you know why she left?” </p><p>The air shifts at the table when Bellamy speaks. He can feel the others glancing at him. Their concern bounces off his skin at the moment. His attention is hooked on Harper. </p><p>Harper frowns, sympathy entering her gaze. “No, I don’t,” she says softly. “I’m sorry, Bellamy.” </p><p>“Let’s talk about something else,” Echo says. Her voice is sharp, more of an order than a suggestion. </p><p>There’s an awkward pause as everyone scrambles for a new topic. Bellamy uses that moment to push himself out of the table. He strides over to the bar, his fingers drumming impatiently as he waits for Murphy to get to him. </p><p>“Vodka tonic,” Bellamy growls before Murphy can open his mouth. “A double.” </p><p>Of course, he wouldn’t be Murphy if he didn’t have a snide comment prepared. “Hitting the hard stuff, huh? So you must have seen the Princess tonight.” </p><p><em> Princess. </em>The old nickname is like a wound that never fully healed. Hearing it again sends a shooting pain through him. </p><p>Bellamy bares his teeth. “Don’t.” </p><p>Murphy raises his hands. “Touchy subject. Got it.” </p><p>Bellamy throws back the drink as soon as the glass is in his hands. The burn of vodka down his throat is a pleasant upgrade to what he was feeling discussing his ex. He slides the empty glass at Murphy for another. </p><p>His friend quirks an eyebrow but wisely doesn’t say anything this time. He pours another drink for him. </p><p>Bellamy sips at his second drink, taking a slower pace. He wants to get drunk, not vomit on the bar floor. Murphy lingers while he’s drinking, wiping at the counter with a rag. There aren’t any other customers that need his attention, but Bellamy sees through it. </p><p>“Just spit it out, Murphy.” </p><p>“Nope. I have a strong sense of self-preservation and I’d rather <em> not </em>have my head ripped off, thanks.” </p><p>Bellamy slams his glass down. The alcohol is an additive to his bad mood. “Unless you want me to slam this glass in your face—”</p><p>Murphy rolls his eyes. “Like you’d ever hurt my pretty face.” </p><p>“Murphy,” he growls warningly. </p><p>“So, you know how our girl Clarke gets chatty when you put a Manhattan in her hands?” Murphy asks, not waiting for a response before he goes on. “We talked before she went over. I found out she was engaged.” </p><p>Engaged. </p><p>The word and all of the connotations behind it hit him directly in the solar plexus. The breath is ripped out of his lungs and Bellamy forgets how to draw breath. </p><p>“<em>What? </em>” </p><p>Murphy shrugs, a smirk on his lips. “Just thought you might find that interesting.” </p><p>“What else did she say?” </p><p>“Thought you didn’t care,” he notes. At his piercing glare, Murphy continues. “All I got out of her was her ex’s name. Lexa. They broke their engagement off before she left Polis.” </p><p>Bellamy swallows the rest of his drink. He doesn’t know what to do with this piece of information. He turns it over in his mind like a dice, each side taking him by surprise. </p><p>
  <em> Clarke was engaged.  </em>
</p><p>He shouldn’t find it that shocking. She had a life in Polis. He moved on, so it makes sense that she would too. Bellamy isn’t sure what he was expecting the catalyst to be that sent Clarke back to Arkadia’s doorstep. Not this. He hoped…</p><p>No. He slams the door on that thought, locks it tight. </p><p>
  <em> I don't care.  </em>
</p><p>Bellamy fishes his wallet out, lays his cash on the bar and goes to get Echo. He’s ready to call it a night. </p><p>The tension in the car thickens the air between them on the drive home. His black mood hangs around him like a cloak and he knows Echo can sense it. </p><p>She doesn't say anything until they stop for gas about a block away from their place. Bellamy heads inside the store, preferring to pay cash.</p><p>When he returns, he drops a packet of Slim Jim's into the center console as an apology for being such a dick. They're Echo's favorite. </p><p>Echo glances up, giving him a small smile. She waits until he finishes pumping gas and climbs back into the car to speak. </p><p>"We don't have to talk about tonight," she murmurs. "Just promise me something, Bellamy." </p><p>He abandons starting the ignition and turns toward her, both dread and expectation twisting his gut. </p><p>Her eyes are always sharp, never missing anything. But now in the glow of the gas station, there's a glimmer of vulnerability in them that he doesn't normally see. </p><p>"Promise me if something changes with us, you'll tell me. I don't want to be the last to know." </p><p>"Nothing is going to change with us," Bellamy tells her fiercely. "Let's go home." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Your comments are always appreciated ❤️</p><p>Here's my <a href="http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. dead in the water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi fam! I love reading all of your comments and speculation about this fic. It means so much. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Madi is starting school that Monday, so Clarke finds herself at the store on the weekend, shopping for school supplies.</p><p>Her mother offered to take care of it, but Clarke doesn’t want to miss out on these things with her daughter. </p><p>“Are you excited?” Clarke asks, pushing the cart down the crowded aisle. </p><p>Madi shrugs, fidgeting with a curly strand of hair. A habit Clarke recognizes Madi must have picked up from her. “I don’t know. What if I don’t make any friends?” </p><p>Clarke’s throat tightens at the sadness in her daughter’s voice. “You will,” she says firmly. “You’re sweet and kind and funny, Madi. You’ll make lots of friends. I know it.” </p><p>Thankfully, Madi is easily distracted from her worry by picking out a pack of crayons. Clarke may let herself get sidetracked here as well. The store’s art supply is impressive. </p><p>“Clarke Griffin?” </p><p>Clarke turns her head. She’s met with the wide, hazel eyes of Harper McIntyre. </p><p>Harper gapes at her like she isn't sure it’s her. Then her face splits into a wide smile. “Oh my god. It is you!” </p><p>She’s embraced by Harper without warning. The other girl hugs her tightly. Clarke feels awkward as she pats Harper’s back. This enthusiastic greeting is unexpected. </p><p>Finally, Harper steps back, still smiling. “How are you? Wait. What are you doing in Arkadia?” </p><p>Clarke shrugs. “I moved back a few days ago. For work. I was offered a job at Arkadia General.” </p><p>“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding along. “I heard you went to medical school. That’s so wonderful, Clarke. Wow!”</p><p>“Thank you.” Clarke checks on Madi further up the aisle. She’s occupied by the crayons. “So, uh, what are you up to these days?” </p><p>If it’s possible, Harper seems to glow then. “Monty and I got married,” she announces. </p><p>Right. That’s something Clarke should have seen on social media if she kept up with it like everyone else seems to. “Congratulations, Harper. I’m happy for you.” </p><p>There’s a lull in the conversation. She wonders if Harper can sense she isn’t being entirely sincere.</p><p>Harper and Monty had just started dating the last time she saw them. Clarke is sure they’re great together, but she’s not much of a romantic these days. </p><p>Clarke struggles with what to say next. Has small talk always been this hard? </p><p>Then, Harper notices the little girl that skips up to them. “Holy sh–<em> cow</em>. Who is this?” </p><p>“My daughter,” Clarke says, a note of pride slipping into her voice. “Madi Griffin.” </p><p>Madi peers up at Harper’s attention on her and smiles. Her daughter has never been shy. “Hi, I’m Madi.” </p><p>Harper grins. “Hi, Madi. I’m Harper. I’m an old friend of your mom’s.” Harper’s eyes flit back to her stunned. “You have a <em> daughter </em>?” </p><p>She can see the questions spinning in her friend’s mind. Clarke opens her mouth to answer with the standard: <em> no, I didn’t give birth and not tell anyone. Yes, she’s adopted.  </em></p><p>Harper speaks before she gets the chance. “Oh my god. Did you and Bellamy—”</p><p>“No!” Clarke says, sharper than necessary. “No. Madi was my foster daughter. I adopted her about five years ago.” </p><p>Harper has the grace to look a touch sheepish. “Right. Stupid question. Sorry, I didn’t mean—”</p><p>Clarke waves off her apology. She’s not going there. “No worries. We’ve all fallen out of touch. How is everyone?” </p><p>“Good, good. Oh! We’re actually meeting for drinks tonight. You should come and catch up with everybody.” </p><p>Clarke falters. “Oh, I don’t know…” </p><p>“Please,” Harper pleads. “It would be so great for everyone to see you again, Clarke!” </p><p><em> Will it? </em>She’s doubtful. “Maybe some other time. I have Madi tonight and school’s starting on Monday. We’re still getting ready.” </p><p>“Just one drink,” her friend insists. “It can be non-alcoholic. I’m trying to get pregnant anyway, so I won’t be drinking. Your mom can watch Madi for an hour, can’t she?” </p><p>Her mother would let her move in with Madi. She’s suggested as much about a dozen times. Both her and Marcus adore having their granddaughter around. That’s not the issue. </p><p>The real problem is Clarke’s cowardice. Having to face the people from her past that she abruptly cut out of her life. Harper isn’t inclined to hold a grudge, but she can think of a few others that won’t be as forgiving. </p><p>But...isn’t that what she’s here for? To make amends to those she’s hurt. To start over. Either tonight or any other night, the result is going to be just as painful. Might as well get it over with. </p><p>Clarke lets out a breath. “Okay. Just for an hour. Where are we meeting?” </p><p>“Yay! I’ll text you the details. Same number, right?” </p><p>Harper gives her another hug and says she looks forward to seeing her later. Clarke regrets agreeing to this immediately after her old friend disappears from view. </p><p>Naturally, her only viable excuse falls through. Her mom and Marcus have no plans. They’re all too willing to watch Madi for the night.</p><p>Her mom is overly thrilled about her going out and reconnecting with her old friends. She all but pushes Clarke out the door. </p><p>Clarke agonizes over her appearance. She knows there’s a good chance Bellamy might be there tonight and that plays a big role. This is the first time he’s going to see her outside of scrubs and her hair not in a messy bun in six years. It matters. </p><p>Eventually, she decides on a black silk top, jeans that are a little snug and black ankle boots. Nice enough for seeing old friends, though not like she’s trying too hard and spent two hours deciding. Perfect. </p><p>Harper messaged her that they’re meeting at the bar where Murphy works. The Lantern.</p><p>Hearing that name again is enough to make Clarke smile. She never thought there’d be a day that she’d freely admit to missing John Murphy. </p><p>Her stomach flips upon entering the bar. The noise of people chatting and music playing folds over her.</p><p>Clarke’s eyes scan over the place and find them almost immediately, crowded around a large table. Harper and Monty. Raven. Emori. Miller. <em> Bellamy.  </em></p><p>She takes a step forward. Or tries to. Somehow, though, Clarke ends up on the sidewalk outside trying to catch her breath. </p><p>She’s raised a six-year-old on her own. She survived medical school. She regularly operates on human bodies. This, of all things, shouldn’t be so hard. Yet fear keeps her rooted to the spot outside. </p><p>Clarke is talking herself into going back in when the bar’s heavy door swings open.</p><p>Bellamy walks out. He’s not wearing a sling for his shoulder like he’s supposed to, which isn’t surprising. Her ex follows his own rules. </p><p>She takes a moment to admire his back in the leather jacket he’s wearing. Then Clarke notices that Bellamy didn’t just step out for some air. He’s approaching a black car parked on the street just as the headlights cut out. </p><p>The passenger door opens. A woman climbs out. Clarke can’t recognize her at first, only that she’s tall with long brown hair.</p><p>Then she steps into the glow of a streetlight and Clarke’s blood turns to ice. That’s Echo. </p><p>Echo smiles as Bellamy approaches, reaching for him. </p><p>Clarke feels like she’s being forced to watch a car wreck. Unable to look away although she knows in her bones what’s coming next. </p><p>Bellamy kisses her, pressing against the side of the car. Her arms wrap themselves familiarly around his neck. They’re in their own world, as couples are, oblivious to the sound of her heart shattering across the street.</p><p>He’s with someone. Of course he is. Someone as wonderful and loving as Bellamy Blake wouldn’t stay single. He definitely wouldn’t be sitting around waiting for her. </p><p>He wasn’t hers to hold onto. But it feels like she’s losing him all over again. </p><p>And to Echo, of all people. The thought makes her want to scream. Bellamy hated her for what she did to his little sister. And her. Echo was a bully. A truly spiteful person. How could that have changed since she was gone? </p><p>She doesn’t want Bellamy to catch her standing there. That is what gets her to move and enter the bar despite the stabbing pain in her chest. Inside, Clarke goes straight to the bar for a drink. </p><p>“Well, I’ll be damned.” </p><p>Clarke glances up to find Murphy behind the bar, wearing a smirk. He has a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.</p><p>“The prodigal princess returns,” he greets her. “Where the fuck have you been, Griffin?”</p><p>Her mouth twitches into an almost smile. “It’s Dr. Griffin now. I was in Polis for a while, but yeah, I’m back.” </p><p>Murphy shakes his head like he’s seeing a ghost come back to life. Harper looked at her the same way at the store. Clarke doesn’t get it. She hasn’t miraculously resurrected from death. </p><p>“So. Have you seen Bellamy yet?” </p><p>Clarke winces. “He was in the ER this week. I treated him. God. He hates me, Murphy.” </p><p>Murphy cocks a brow at her. “Can you blame the guy? You dumped his ass after four years and skipped town. That was a cold-bitch move, Princess.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me you hate me too.” </p><p>“Nah. I fucked up with Emori. We’re the same, Griffin. I couldn’t hate you unless I wanted to hate me too. And I’m too sexy for that.” He winks. </p><p>Clarke manages a small laugh. She’s grateful for the distraction from what she witnessed outside.</p><p>The news about Murphy and Emori splitting up is surprising. Last she checked, Murphy and Emori were crazy about each other. A lot can change in six years, she supposes.</p><p>Murphy drums on the bar top, retaking her attention. “So, what’s your poison? You get <em> one </em> drink on the house, as a welcome home gift.” </p><p>“That’s generous,” she teases. </p><p>“I’m a generous guy.”</p><p>There’s something about bartenders. Or maybe she’s just that starved for human company. As Clarke sips at her cocktail, she finds herself spilling her guts to John Murphy of all people. He makes many snarky comments, but he still listens. </p><p>They catch up for a little while. Murphy tells her about the food truck he owns and cooks for when he’s not bartending. She’s proud of him for discovering his passion in cooking and going after it. </p><p>Eventually, Clarke finishes the drink. She gathers up the courage to stand up and walk over to the table where her old friends are seated. </p><p>They’re all talking and laughing when she approaches. Her eyes land on Bellamy first. He’s made it back from outside, his arm slung around <em>her</em>. Echo is nestled into his side, chatting easily with the group like she belongs there. </p><p>Harper notices her standing there first. “Hey, Clarke. You made it.” </p><p>All of them whip their heads around to stare at her. The only person that appears happy about seeing her is Monty.</p><p>The others are shades of disbelief and even hostility. Bellamy is openly scowling. Echo looks bored, but that’s her standard expression. </p><p>“Wow,” Raven mutters. “I can’t believe you have the balls to show your face here.” </p><p>Clarke shifts awkwardly on her feet. “I’m back in Arkadia. I wanted to see you.” </p><p>“And what?” Raven demands, crossing her arms. “You think you can walk in after six years of radio silence and everything is good?”  </p><p>“Raven,” Harper chides softly. </p><p>Raven rolls her eyes before exchanging an annoyed look with Emori. </p><p>“Look,” Clarke starts, speaking to all of them. “I understand why you’re upset. I’m here because I want to make things right.” </p><p>Emori shakes her head. “It’s six years too late for that.” </p><p>Raven stares at her coldly. “Just go, Clarke. None of us are interested in you <em> pretending </em>to feel bad about your decisions.” </p><p>Clarke clenches her jaw. She can’t bear the pity in Harper and Monty’s gazes. This was a mistake.</p><p>And what hurts the worst is Bellamy’s sharp silence. He was always the person that defended her, had her back without question. Now she has to face the wolves alone. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Clarke murmurs, “for what I did, for leaving like that. I don’t have a good excuse for it. I just came here to apologize.” </p><p>Her apology is met with cold stares and silence. Harper tries to smile at her, but it can't override the animosity from the people that were once her family. </p><p>She leaves the bar after that. There’s nothing else she can say to them. They’ve had years to build their anger and their resentment, to stack their grievances against her.</p><p>Clarke can’t cut through all of that in one night. This is just the start. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Her first week at Arkadia General is challenging, draining, and rewarding work.</p><p>Clarke honestly loves what she does. She can’t complain much about the long hours and being kept on her feet when she’s healing people—and in some cases saving their lives. </p><p>Still, her energy levels are low when she gets off a long shift. That’s what leads her to picking up food at <em> Friendly’s </em>for dinner instead of a home-cooked meal for her and Madi. </p><p>She’s waiting at the register for her order to be brought out, her eyes running absently over her surroundings. The restaurant is crowded on a Friday night. </p><p>She almost misses him. He’s sitting at a small table, his dark head bowed as he reads on his phone. The shape of him is startlingly different without the unruly curls and his sharp jawline hidden by the beard. He still looks good. </p><p>Her pulse quickens. Seeing Bellamy’s face again is like stepping out into the sunlight after a long, cold winter. She drew him from memory in Polis, but it’s not the same as seeing him now, alive and beautiful. </p><p>Bellamy has on a blue Henley shirt that’s fitted on him, tight around his broad shoulders. A filled glass sits at his elbow. Dr. Pepper, if she had to guess. They used to come here all the time for lunch dates. The meatball sub was Bellamy’s favorite. </p><p>He smiles down at his phone. She can’t look away. He seems relaxed, happy, so unlike the way he’s been around her. </p><p>Clarke wishes things could be different. That she could walk over and join him, share his smiles instead of being on the other end of his anger, his hurt.</p><p>Longing fills her chest to know about his life. Does he still drink Dr. Pepper? What grade is he teaching now? How is Octavia? </p><p>For just a second, Clarke thinks about going over. Then Echo appears out of nowhere, sitting across from him and that half-baked daydream crumbles before her eyes. </p><p>Of course he’s not alone. Bellamy comes here on dates with Echo now. </p><p>Bellamy shows her something on his phone screen and they laugh together. The sight twists a knife through Clarke’s stomach. </p><p>She’s happy for him. Really, she is. It’s not like Clarke wants Bellamy to be miserable and alone without her. But she can’t pretend that this doesn’t hurt. She can’t erase the hot sting of betrayal, the feeling of being replaced. </p><p>Clarke grabs her order as soon as it’s ready and makes her escape out the door. </p><p>She only remembers to check the to-go bag when she’s seated in her car. Naturally, the order is screwed up.</p><p>Clarke swears under her breath. She weighs the options of Madi refusing to eat her messed up order versus heading back inside and seeing <em>them </em>again. </p><p>With a sigh, Clarke goes back inside the restaurant. She tries not to lose her patience waiting for them to correct her order while her feet ache from exhaustion. She’s going to crash soon. </p><p>Then Clarke feels a tingle on the back of her neck. She knows Bellamy won’t be where she left him. Her gaze is drawn to the next register when he is being rung up, her body registering his proximity like an electric shock. </p><p>Their eyes collide. Bellamy takes the air in the restaurant with him when he breathes in, his nostrils flaring.</p><p>Anger rolls over his expression, filling in the lines of his creased brow and tight cheeks. </p><p>Clarke isn’t afraid of Bellamy’s anger. She never has been. The hotter his fury burns, the deeper he cares. She isn’t warded off by his emotions but hooked in like a siren’s call into a raging ocean storm. </p><p>Somewhere, deep down, he still cares. </p><p>She abandons the counter she’s waiting at to approach him. “Bellamy.” </p><p>“Saturday night wasn’t enough for you?” He growls. </p><p>No. That scene at the bar doesn’t matter now. Clarke forgets about the humiliation she felt. She forgets about the people around them, behind the counter and sitting at surrounding tables. There’s just him. </p><p>She’s going to drown at the bottom of the ocean. Clarke knows this, but she can’t stop. </p><p>“Please,” she says softly. “You have no idea how sorry I am, Bellamy.” </p><p>He shakes his head. His stare is hard and flat like it was in the emergency room. </p><p>“Not sorry enough to apologize for six years.” Bellamy turns toward her sharply, the air between them nearly vibrating. “I didn’t hear from you for <em> six years</em>, Clarke!” </p><p>Her throat squeezes with the threat of tears. Her voice is no more than a croak. “I know. I’m sorry. Please let me explain.”</p><p>Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut, his expression pained. “Can we not do this? Just leave it alone, Clarke.” </p><p>The wetness sticks to her lashes, turns her vision watery and blurred. Clarke bites back another apology that floods her tongue. He doesn’t want to hear them, but what else does she have? </p><p>“If I could take it back—” </p><p>“Bellamy.” </p><p>Echo appears beside him. Her presence is a shock to her system, an unwelcome reminder that the rest of the world exists.</p><p>Clarke feels a surge of irritation towards her. Why is she even here? </p><p>Echo’s hand presses against his chest. “Let’s go.” </p><p>He doesn’t move. They’re locked in their own universe. Clarke is unable to tear her eyes away from his and he is the same, his thundering with emotion. </p><p>“<em>Bellamy</em>,” Echo hisses. “Now.” </p><p>Bellamy storms away towards the exit. Echo gives her a dirty glance over her shoulder before she follows after him. </p><p>Clarke has to blink to come back to herself. It feels like emerging after being underwater. Distracted, she grabs her remade order when it’s ready and leaves the restaurant. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Clarke does her best to hide her lingering heartache from Madi. She forces a smile as they play a game of cards in the living room.</p><p>Her daughter never fails to bring light into her life. By the time Clarke is playfully chasing Madi around the apartment for bath time, her laughter is real. </p><p>A couple of nights later, Madi is tucked in her bed when she asks her, “Mom? When can I meet Bellamy?” </p><p>Clarke goes still. </p><p>Madi isn’t deterred by her silence. “You said I could meet your friends when we got here.  Remember? Raven and Murphy and Monty and Harper. You used to talk about them all the time, but you don’t anymore.” </p><p>She lets out a shaky breath. Clarke forgets sometimes, like all adults do, how perceptive children are. They see more than you realize. </p><p>She should have expected this. In Polis, some of the bedtime stories were about him, about all of them.</p><p>Bellamy is who she talked about the most, though. Her best friend. His big heart and how he raised Octavia since he was a kid himself and he was always, always there for Clarke when she needed him. </p><p>Naively, she believed that Bellamy would love Madi instantly and they could become a real family. </p><p>She has to protect her daughter from that disappointment. The love of her life can't stand to be around her. There isn't going to be any warm reunions. </p><p>“I don’t know, honey,” Clarke says softly. “Now isn’t a good time.” </p><p>A wrinkle forms in between Madi’s brows. “Why?” </p><p>Clarke thinks to herself for a minute. She wants her daughter to understand. “Do you remember when your friend Molly broke your Lightsaber toy? And you were <em> really </em> mad at her?” </p><p>Her daughter nods. “I didn’t let her sit next to me during Show and Tell.” </p><p>“It’s kind of like that,” Clarke explains. “My friends and I are on a time-out. I hope that changes soon, though. I hope you get to meet them. I know they’ll love you so much. Just like I do.” </p><p>“I’m sorry they’re mad at you.” </p><p>“Me too.” </p><p>"What about Bellamy?" Madi asks, innocent curiosity in her blue eyes. "He'll forgive you, right? You said he always did." </p><p>Her throat squeezes with the threat of tears. "I don't know, Madi. I hope so." </p><p>Madi sits up to press a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t be sad, Mama. I love you.” </p><p>Clarke smiles slightly. “I love you too, baby. Sweet dreams.” </p><p>Her daughter doesn't ask for a story that night. She must be able to sense Clarke's sadness. Her little girl is a blessing and no matter her long list of regrets, being in Polis to find Madi isn't one of them.</p><p>Still. It’s impossible for her to sleep that night. Clarke stares up at the ceiling, her eyes dry and aching. Her thoughts run on a loop that she can’t find the off switch for or even a <em> pause </em> button. </p><p>During the day she can keep busy. Her work as a doctor is demanding and time-consuming. She’s able to focus on her patients and not herself. </p><p>She uses all of her free time for her daughter, drawing together or watching whatever movie is Madi’s favorite this week. Sometimes, they have family dinners at her mom and Marcus’s house. </p><p>She’s not happy. Content is a reach. But Clarke has a busy, productive life and a bright spot of that life is Madi. Her work is meaningful. That’s more than most people can ask for. </p><p>Alone at night, however, there are no distractions. Clarke has only her cold pillow to press against, stained from her tears. She grieves for her lost chance with Bellamy. He was her family once. But she ruined their relationship beyond repair. </p><p>Hours slip by with her unable to sleep. Halfway through the night, Clarke gets up. She picks her way through her closet, crammed with boxes she hasn’t unpacked yet. She finds the certain box she’s searching for, stuffed into the back. </p><p>Upon opening the box, she’s hit with a whiff of jasmine perfume. The old bottle that Bellamy gave her sits inside. Tears fill her eyes as she delves through the lost items. There’s a copy of the epic <em> Metamorphoses </em>that he lent her. A strip of photos from a photobooth. A corsage with a blue ribbon. His worn T-shirt that she kept. </p><p>She finds the handwritten notes Bellamy would leave for her around their apartment, laid on her pillow or taped to the bathroom mirror. Some sweet, some silly or sexual. Clarke goes from smiling at them to blushing and then crying all over again. </p><p>
  <em> Good morning, my goddess. Enjoy your coffee. Xoxo.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You look so pretty with your hair up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Great sex last night ;)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re my soymate. We’re out of soy milk, by the way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sorry you had a bad day, Princess. Come cuddle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m so lucky that you’re mine.   </em>
</p><p>Clarke has to seal the box. This happens every time she goes through it. An overflow of emotion gets her choked up. It’s probably unhealthy to hold onto her ex-boyfriend’s stuff, but she can’t bear to get rid of any of it. </p><p>She grabs the T-shirt before sealing the box with tape. The material is soft and worn. Clarke pulls in on over her underwear and ventures out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. </p><p>She sits curled up at the window, watching as the sky gives birth to a new day and the sun rises on the horizon. Maybe there's a small part of her—a spark not yet snuffed out—that still has hope. Their story can't be over. She'll hold on to everything, just in case. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading ❤️</p><p>I made a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6f0NOzIsAnPwWvwtWPgbJd">playlist</a> for this fic if you want to check it out. The songs are when the chapter titles come from.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. let me rest in pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey fam! So happy you guys are enjoying this fic. Thanks for the love ❤️</p><p>This chapter is still a bit angsty as we go through Bellamy's feelings. It's important to me that Bellarke work through their stuff and no anger/hurt is just brushed aside. </p><p>It's a slow-burn ride to getting back together, but I hope you guys make it through the journey with me. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>He has to return to the hospital for a check-up after the accident and to have his stitches removed. Bellamy would have blown it off, if Jackson hadn’t refused to remove them. His overbearing friends also forbade him from pulling out the stitches himself. </p><p>Bellamy hopes that he won’t run into her, but that’s futile. Clarke finds him anyway. </p><p>Anger kindles in his veins when Clarke lets herself into the room, her lab coat swinging behind her.</p><p>Did it even occur to her that Bellamy <em>doesn’t </em>want to see her? Not that it would stop her. Clarke Griffin is ruthless when her mind is set on something. </p><p>The sound of the latex gloves being snapped on sets his teeth on edge. </p><p>“What are you doing?” He demands. </p><p>Clarke gives him a patient look. There’s something different about her that he can’t place. Her hair is shorter now, barely fitting into a braid. Her face is older too, matured from the twenty-one-year-old he knew. But that’s not it. </p><p>Her lips quirk into a humorless half-smile. “I think you know how stubborn I am. I’m not giving up on you.” </p><p>“You already did.” </p><p>Her professional mask is firmly in place. He’s looking closely though. Bellamy can see the light dim in her eyes at the reminder of their break-up. </p><p>Clarke sits down on a rolling chair and wheels herself closer to his cot. “I’m going to remove your stitches now, okay?” </p><p>Bellamy says nothing, biting his tongue, his hands curled into fists. Like he has any choice about this. </p><p>Her scent is different. He hates himself for noticing. She isn’t wearing the jasmine perfume she used to dab on every morning. The perfume that <em>he </em>bought her, he remembers. She probably threw it out years ago. </p><p>“Why are you here, Clarke?” </p><p>Her hand stills, pausing her work on his cheekbone. He hears her swallow. “I told you. Jaha offered me a position—”</p><p>“No,” he says flatly. “You could have worked anywhere. Why <em>here</em>? Why did you come back?” </p><p>At her silence, he presses, digging in harder. “Tell me why. You owe me that much, Clarke.” </p><p>Her hand drops from his face. She gives him a long, considering look. He can hear the catch in her voice when she speaks. “I wanted to come home.” </p><p>Bellamy scoffs harshly. “Save that Hallmark bullshit for Abby. No, really, Clarke. What happened? Did you run out of money in Polis? Had to come back and get mommy to pull some strings for you at the hospital?” </p><p>Clarke pushes herself to her feet, turning away from him. Her movements are tight and controlled when she yanks off the gloves, tossing them into the trash can. He can spot the sharp jut of her chin. </p><p>“No?” Bellamy taunts. “That’s all right. I have other theories. Did it have something to do with that broken engagement? What was her name? <em> Lexa</em>?”  </p><p>Clarke whips around to face him, her blue eyes bright with anger. “<em>Nothing. Happened." </em>She spits the words through her teeth. “I wanted to come home, to Arkadia, to—Why is that so hard to believe?”</p><p>“Because I know you,” he retorts. “And you run when you’re scared. You came here to hide from something. I don’t buy for a second that it’s because you’re suddenly so sentimental.” </p><p>“Fuck you, Bellamy. It’s been six years. You think you know me so well? You’re wrong. We don’t know each other anymore.” </p><p>“Clearly,” he snaps. </p><p>Clarke presses a hand over her eyes, pulling in deep breaths. In the dead silence of the room, he observes the lack of an engagement ring on her finger. </p><p>Bellamy tells himself it doesn’t matter. But the words echo hollow inside his head. He’s hungry for even a crumb about her life in Polis and who she is now.</p><p>Did she love Lexa? Did she miss <em>him</em> at all? </p><p>His pride won’t let him ask. It’s all he has left. </p><p>When she meets his eyes, her expression has softened. Her bottom lip trembles with emotion as she looks at him, rueful.</p><p>“I didn’t come here to fight, okay? I want to apologize. I’m sorry, Bellamy. I’m sorry for leaving the way I did and just disappearing. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know I did.” </p><p>He can’t look at her. He can’t hear this. Not now, not after all this time. Words are just words, but it’s her tears that undo him.</p><p>They always have. If she breaks down, he’s going to lose it too and cave after six years of hardening his heart to the girl that so callously <em>broke </em>him. </p><p>It doesn’t matter that she’s practically a stranger now, a grown woman he doesn’t recognize. She still wears Clarke’s face, has the same eyes, and that’s enough power in her favor to bring him to his knees. </p><p>He’s not strong enough for this. The pain is already clawing through his chest, breaking free from the vault he locked it inside.</p><p>Tears sting in his eyes. When Bellamy yells, he isn’t sure if it’s directed at her or himself. </p><p>“Stop, just stop!” </p><p>“Bellamy—”</p><p>“I don’t want your apology.” His jaw is so rigid, it makes it hard to grind the words out. </p><p>“Then what can I do?” Clarke pleads. “Tell me. I’ll do anything—anything to make this right with us.” </p><p>“You can’t!” </p><p>Bellamy jumps down from the cot, too agitated to sit still. The volume of his voice makes Clarke cringe, but he pays no mind to that.</p><p>He can barely hear himself over the hammer of his pulse, his blood gushing hot and fast in his veins. </p><p>“Do you get how hard it is for me to see you?” He demands. “Have you even thought about that? It’s always about what <em>you </em>want, Clarke. You leave when you want. You come back when you want. And I wish you hadn’t! I wish you had stayed in Polis and never showed up here.” </p><p>Her eyes gape at him, wide and stunned. They’re wet with tears too. </p><p>"You're right," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. "We don't know each other anymore. That's the way it has to be. You go back to your life and I'll go back to mine."  </p><p>Clarke is quiet for a few tense moments. "If that's what you want." </p><p>He nods. "It is." </p><p>His ex-girlfriend closes her eyes. He ignores the way her quiet sniffle pains him. He isn't doing this to be cruel. Bellamy doesn't enjoy hurting her.</p><p>At some point in his life, he learned how to stop making excuses for others. He had to stop letting people break off pieces of himself and leave him with nothing. </p><p>When Clarke opens her eyes, her gaze is flat, resigned. "Okay." </p><p>Bellamy exhales sharply. “Good.” He shoves his fingers through his hair, tugging in frustration. He needs to get out of here. “We done?” </p><p>He doesn’t wait for an answer from her. Bellamy makes it out of the room and out the doors of the hospital without knowing how he got there.</p><p>Suddenly, he’s standing in the alley behind the building, his breath loud and ragged to his ears. </p><p>Bellamy kicks at the closest object, knocking over a trash can. He kicks at the bin over and over until it crashes into a brick wall. When he’s done there is trash littering the alleyway and some mysterious liquid staining his shoes. </p><p>Annoyance prickles hot under his skin. He doesn’t do this shit anymore. He doesn’t lose his temper like the hot-headed teenage punk he used to be. Bellamy is a grown-ass man now with healthy coping mechanisms, damn it. </p><p>Just one encounter with Clarke Griffin and he’s back to picking fights with objects. </p><p>Bellamy digs out his phone to call Miller. They can hit up the gym and do something productive with the pent-up frustration he’s feeling. He needs to let it out. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Echo raises a cool eyebrow when he trudges through the door. “So, you’re alive. I’ve been calling you.” </p><p>Bellamy tosses his gym bag on the floor. He knows it drives his girlfriend crazy to have stuff cluttered around the front door, but he slips off his sneakers and leaves them there anyway. </p><p>“I was at the gym.” </p><p>Echo’s lips thin, unimpressed with this explanation. “And when you left the gym? Or the drive over here? You don’t think you could have answered me, then?” </p><p>Bellamy passes by her into the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. He can feel her glare spearing the back of his head. </p><p>He overexerted himself working out, trying to burn out his frustration and now his muscles are paying for it. His emotions are still rung out from his fight with Clarke that morning. All he wants is to lie down. </p><p>“I’m not in the mood, Echo.” </p><p>“You haven’t been ‘in the mood’ all week,” she mutters. “We have to talk about this.” </p><p>Bellamy huffs, turning around to face her. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, okay? I’ll send a text next time.” </p><p>“Not about that.” </p><p>“About what?” </p><p>The temperature in the room drops by several degrees, frosted over by her disappointment.</p><p>Echo levels him with an icy look. One of her worst. “You know what.” </p><p>Bellamy shakes his head, moving around her towards the bedroom. “We’re not doing this now. I have to shower.” </p><p>She follows behind him, close on his heels. “Yes, we’re doing this now. I’ve been patient, but enough is enough, Bellamy. Stop trying to run from this!” </p><p>Her words strike a dangerous chord in him. <em> He </em>isn’t the one that runs away. Bellamy grits his teeth before he turns around. </p><p>Echo wilts at his expression. He doesn’t know what he looks like right then, but whatever is there gives her pause. She takes a moment to gather herself, crossing her arms over her chest. </p><p>“You never talk about her.” </p><p>
  <em> I can’t.  </em>
</p><p>“Why would I?” He demands. “Forget about the past. That’s what we agreed on when we got together, right? We move forward. The present is what matters.” </p><p>“This <em>is </em>the present, Bellamy. It’s happening now. Your ex-girlfriend is here and you refuse to acknowledge how you feel about it.” </p><p>“You want to know how I feel? Pissed off, that she’s interrupting our lives.”</p><p>Echo studies him, her head cocked to the side. “That’s all?” </p><p>He spreads his arms wide. “What else is there? She’s my ex. We ended on bad terms. I don’t want to see her at the bar or the grocery store or anywhere else. Okay?” </p><p>His girlfriend is too quiet and it makes him sigh. “What, Echo?” </p><p>“I think that there’s more than that. You’re not being honest with me.” </p><p>“I think I know how I feel better than you do,” he snaps. “What do you want from me?” </p><p>Her body stiffens at his tone. “Right now? Nothing.” </p><p>It takes a minute for his anger to cool down. Guilt fills him up in its place. Echo hasn’t done anything wrong and he’s lashing out at her just because she’s here. </p><p>Bellamy takes a calming breath, raking his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. Then he walks over to her and rubs his hands over her crossed arms. </p><p>“I’m sorry. You’re right. This has been hard for me. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” </p><p>Echo lets him kiss her, her eyes still narrowed with worry when he pulls back. “I just need you to talk to me. Don’t shut me out.” </p><p>He presses his lips to the crease in her forehead. “I’ll try not to, okay?” he agrees. “I’m going to grab a shower.” </p><p>Hot water pounds against his back, releasing the tension curled up inside his muscles. Bellamy always enjoyed long showers, being secluded from the rest of the world, alone with his thoughts. </p><p>Growing up in a small house with his mom and his sister made privacy non-existent. Sometimes the shower was the only place he could hear himself think. The habit hasn’t broken. </p><p>He feels better when he steps out, wrapping a towel around his hips. He wipes the steam off the bathroom mirror and uses another towel to dry his wet hair. His eyes fall to the dark beard covering his jaw. </p><p>Almost every week Bellamy thinks about shaving it off. He doesn’t though. Not when Echo complains about the beard scratching her or all the times his friends made jokes when he first grew it out. </p><p>Deep down, Bellamy knows why. He doesn’t want to look too closely at the reason or have to think about it. But his facial hair has something to do with the morning ritual he and Clarke had when they were living together. </p><p>Clarke would sit on the bathroom counter, nestled in between his legs as Bellamy leaned over her. She’d lather his cheeks with cream and slowly, lovingly shave him. He used to love watching her graceful, artistic hands work against his skin. </p><p>A part of him aches for the intimacy they shared. Like the rest of their history, those quiet moments together are buried in his heart, laid over with cold grave dirt. Dead and gone. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>－</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Ten Years Ago</b>
</p><p>
  <b>－</b>
</p><p>
  <em>The first time he saw her, she was wearing a crown. It was hand-made, constructed out of yellow paper. The crown rested on top of her hair, a long blonde braid down her back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy thought she might be a patient, although she was dressed in normal clothes—a soft pink sweater and jeans. Maybe she had slipped out of her room, avoiding the notice of the nurses. He had seen it happen before.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Working as a janitor made him practically invisible to everybody else. Their eyes passed right over him, as long as he kept his head down and stayed out of their way. </em>
</p><p><em>Bellamy had seen and heard a lot at the hospital. </em> <em>A patient escaping from the Psychiatric ward in a paper crown wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen. </em></p><p>
  <em> The girl was sitting in the dark hallway alone, her arms curled around herself. Her eyes stared straight ahead, not really seeing, entangled in her thoughts. She looked young. Maybe sixteen.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy was about to clear his throat to get her attention when she noticed him first.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her head turned and he was met with a pair of stunning blue eyes. They seem to glow in the dim hallway and pierce right through him. Bellamy felt seen.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Those eyes were more serious than a carefree sixteen year old’s should look. Staring into them, Bellamy could read the pain she was in and could imagine what hell she had already lived through. He understood because he has seen enough shit and grew up too fast himself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He tried to keep his voice gentle to not spook her. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry,” she said, blinking slowly. She glanced down at the mop in his grip. “I’ll get out of your way.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She slid off the abandoned stretcher she was seated on. Her white Keds made a soft thump when they hit the floor.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy didn’t feel right about letting her wander off to some other dark corner by herself. “I can take you back to your room,” he offered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sharp blue eyes studied him for a moment. Then her mouth tilted up into an amused half-smile.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not a patient. But thank you, Bellamy.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sound of his name sent a shock through him. How does she know who he is? He’s sure he hasn’t seen her around the hospital before. He would remember her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her amusement grew. She gestured to the jumpsuit he was wearing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh. That’s right. Now he felt like an idiot. His name was stitched on his uniform.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her perception touched him, sparking his curiosity. Most people looked over him here. The help. They don’t bother to learn his name. Who was this girl?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He offered her a small smile and nodded at the crown. “Should I call you Your Highness?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The girl’s eyes widened. She touched the crown like she had forgotten it was there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh,” she laughed, a husky sound that he immediately liked. “A nurse made it for me. I’m supposed to be at Homecoming tonight.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah. So he guessed right. She was in high school.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I didn’t make it to my Homecoming dance,” Bellamy admitted. “But I’m pretty sure that crowns aren’t part of the dress code.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She made a face at him. He liked the glimpse of spunk a lot better than the cloud of sadness hanging around her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It is if you’re part of the Homecoming Court. I was going to be voted Princess of my class tonight.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cocked his head at her, curious. “Why aren’t you there then, Princess?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sadness returned, shifting her eyes into a deep sea of melancholy. There were worry lines wrinkling the space between her brows.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My dad’s in surgery tonight,” she murmured. “They said it could be a few more hours and…” She paused, her gaze dropping to her shoes. “People were crying in the waiting room. I was looking for somewhere quiet.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy nodded in understanding before he frowned. “Were you waiting alone?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She bit her lip, her arms wrapping around herself again. “Yeah. My mom’s a doctor here. She’s been performing a surgery. They haven’t told her what happened yet.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy’s frown deepened, thinking to himself. He could let this girl stay in the hallway. It’s not like she’s going to get in trouble for it, especially when her mother worked there. But he didn’t want to abandon her when she was clearly scared and concerned about her father.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Come on,” Bellamy said, setting the mop aside against the wall. He’ll come back for it later. “I know a quiet place you could wait.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She seemed to find him trustworthy enough to follow through the hospital. The place never slept, operating at all hours, but it was quieter in the middle of the night. Most patients were asleep and visiting hours were long over.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy led them to another floor, over to the on-call rooms where the doctors would rest in between shifts and procedures. He used his key to unlock one of the unoccupied rooms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She hesitated by the threshold. “Are you sure this is okay?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He gave her a calm, reassuring look. “No one is going to bother you, I promise. Get some rest, Princess.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She reached for his hand, holding his set of keys. Their gazes locked and he felt something in his chest pull, unfurling towards her. Her eyes shone with gratitude.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s Clarke.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy smiled. “Get some rest, Clarke.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The door shut behind her. He tried to shake the sense of loss that gripped him. He didn’t want that to be the last he saw of her. For them to be just two ships in the night, briefly crossing paths, then away in separate directions.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy forced himself to walk away, back to the section he left his cleaning supplies. She needed kindness from a stranger and he gave that to her. That would have to be enough.  </em>
</p><p><em> Still, he thought about her that night as he mopped the floors. </em> Clarke. <em> Her name lingered on the tip of his tongue, an unfinished story he had only gotten an excerpt of. He didn’t expect to see her again.  </em></p><p>
  <em> He was wrong. Clarke found him two nights later.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy was dragging himself through another night shift, exhausted from looking after his mother and Octavia during the day. His mom had been laid off again, out of sick days because of her chronic illness. She was bed-ridden at the moment and unable to go searching for work.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He took up the janitor position to help with the bills. It was a second job he could get and quickly without having a college degree. Outside the hospital, he was still working odd jobs at the mechanic shop and occasionally subbing for teachers, which was his favorite.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy was fighting to keep his eyes open and suddenly there was Clarke in front of him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She walked up as he was wiping one of the glass windows with a wet rag. Her hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders, free from the braid. She was carrying two cups of coffee.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Bellamy,” she said, voice warm. “I was hoping I’d find you.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Elation moved through him in a dizzying wave. It was unexpected and unfamiliar. But he was happy to see her again.  </em>
</p><p><em> She looked better than she did the other night. Lighter. The sight of her pretty, smiling face made his breath catch. There was no way this girl cared about seeing </em>him<em>.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Baffled, he took the cup of coffee she handed to him. “You were looking for me?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. “To say thanks for the other night. And to tell you my dad made it through his surgery.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was still confused by this visit, but he managed to smile. “That’s great, Clarke. Uh. Thanks for this.” He lifted the paper cup.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her blue eyes glinted with amusement. “Yeah, it looks like you could use it. Can you take a break?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy hesitated. “I shouldn’t.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke took his hand anyway, not taking no for an answer. “Those windows will still be here in ten minutes.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He refrained from pointing out the sooner he finished his work, the sooner he could go home and sleep. Bellamy had no protests when it’s her that’s pulling him away, her small hand clutching his. He held onto his drink and let her lead the way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They ended up in the outpatient recovery. Clarke took them over to a quiet alcove where they were plastic chairs set up and a phone charging station. Bellamy was so exhausted, he dropped like a dead weight into the chair.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When his eyes cracked open, Clarke was frowning at him in sympathy. “Long day?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” Bellamy said, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I think this is the first time I’ve sat down in twelve hours.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She took the cup from his hands, setting it on the floor. “Laid your head back. Close your eyes. Let me return the favor.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His lips pulled into a smile. He was humoring her and he was too tired to protest. His head fell back against the wall on its own accord.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy didn’t know how much time had passed. He had sunk into sleep. The shrieking of machines from a patient’s room startled him awake.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His eyes snapped open. Clarke was still sitting beside him, her legs curled up under her as she drew in a sketchbook.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He shifted in the uncomfortable chair, his neck stiff from its position. A jacket that wasn’t there before was draped over him. He checked his watch and saw that a half-hour had passed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ten minutes, huh?” Bellamy grumbled, his voice groggy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke’s gaze flicked up to his. “You needed a break.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He couldn’t fathom how this girl knew what he needed. She was alone again tonight while her father was recovering in one of these rooms. But Clarke didn’t steal him away for company. She watched over him while he slept.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy pushed to his feet. His throat was tight with unspoken gratitude as he gave her back the jean jacket. She accepted it with a smile.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He pushed his fingers through his hair, at a loss on where to go from here. “Uh. I have to get back.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke nodded. “I’ll see you around, Bellamy.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He felt that unraveling in his chest again like a flower blooming in the sunlight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was everything. The way his name sounded on her lips. Her easy confidence that they would see each other again. That he mattered to her at all.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her dad, Jake Griffin, was kept in the hospital for over a week. He gained a post-op infection that complicated his recovery. During that time, Bellamy and Clarke forged an unexpected bond during his night shifts.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke brought him cups of coffee. He had no idea where she scored them since the coffee carts were closed at that hour, but he didn’t ask. Bellamy was just happy to get the chance to talk to her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She told him about her dad, who she proudly called her best friend. He was a brilliant engineer. During proper visiting hours, Clarke stopped by the hospital after school and would watch old football games with her dad. He picked up during their conversations that Clarke wasn't as close with her mother.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dr. Griffin was like a lot of doctors he met. Abrasive and cold, one eye always on her pager. She found them one night and Bellamy keenly felt her displeasure, the judgment in her stare. He didn’t exactly blame her. Her daughter was hanging out with some low-life janitor.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke didn’t care what her mother thought. He liked her even more for that.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy talked about his mom and her illness while she listened. He told her about Octavia, his little sister that meant everything to him. He did his best to make sure she was happy and he was being a good role model for her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But every time they fought, Bellamy felt like he was failing her. Clarke assured him that he wasn’t. When it came from Clarke, for some reason, he believed her. She made him feel like he wasn’t a loser or a failure.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sometimes they didn’t talk at all. Clarke would sit next to him and sketch quietly, humming under her breath. He would rest his eyes again or watch the fluid movements of her hand across the page, transfixed. She was an artist.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy was there the night Jake Griffin died. Clarke had fallen asleep on his shoulder when there was a code called and the staff rushed into the patient’s room. The infection killed him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two weeks after the funeral, he messaged her and asked if he could come over. The idea was terrible, probably. Bellamy just wanted to do something to make it better for her. A glimpse of light in the midst of grief.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was leaning against his red truck when she walked down the driveway. Her hair was thrown into a sloppy bun. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The sight stabbed at his heart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy cleared his throat, feeling nervous. “You missed your Homecoming dance, so I thought I’d bring it to you.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He brought his hand from behind his back and showed her the corsage. It was made with orchids, her favorite flower, and a blue ribbon to match the dress she didn’t get to wear.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke stared at the corsage without saying a word.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The back of his neck burned with embarrassment. This was a stupid idea. She was grieving and he was asking her to a hypothetical dance. He was pathetic.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then her face softened. Clarke extended her arm for him to slip the corsage onto her wrist. Lightly, she touched the white orchids. “This is beautiful, Bellamy.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stepped into his arms to hug him. Bellamy sighed to himself as he held her, one hand pressed to the small of her back. They fit together seamlessly like she belonged there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke tipped her head back to look at him. Her smile was small and sad. “Will you dance with me?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Like he could deny her anything. Bellamy turned on his truck and reached for his phone, plugged into the speakers. He put his music on shuffle. There weren’t a lot of options for slow-dance songs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “For Blue Skies” started to play. He went to change it. This wasn’t a happy song.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Clarke stopped him, touching his wrist. “No, leave it. I love this song.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They swayed together in the driveway. His hands rested on the curve of her waist, her cheek pressed to his chest. He could smell her peppermint shampoo with her hair tickling his nose. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was sniffling quietly and he wasn’t the most graceful dancer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it was perfect. Because it was the beginning of them.  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Your comments are my life through this dry, dry hiatus 😉</p><p>Here's my <a href="http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. turn my grief to grace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow! I am blown away by the support for this fic. You guys are the best.</p><p>I couldn't resist posting this chapter a little early. Finally, we're getting to the bottom of why Clarke left. </p><p> <b> Note: </b> There are references to depression, self-harm and a suicide attempt in this chapter. Stay safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>It’s been a month since she moved back. The time has slipped through her fingers. Just yesterday she was dropping Madi off for her first day, or so it feels like. Then suddenly the day has arrived for her mother’s retirement party. </p><p>The party is being held at Abby and Marcus’ house. As Clarke stands in the upstairs bathroom, she can hear the blend of various voices and din of the party in full swing. </p><p>Madi squirms impatiently from her seat on the countertop. “Can I go now?” </p><p>“Almost done,” Clarke reassures her. </p><p>She finishes the thankless task of taming her daughter’s wild hair into soft curls. Being for Abby Griffin, the party is semi-formal and her mother requested that they all look their best. This is their first function as a <em> family </em>, after all. </p><p>Clarke unplugs the curling wand and smooths down her daughter’s hair. “There. As pretty as a princess.” </p><p>Madi makes a face, which makes her laugh. Her daughter prefers playing outdoors and climbing trees to having tea parties.</p><p>She hates the dress that Abby picked out for her to wear. But it was her mother’s party and they had to do as she requested. </p><p>Madi runs downstairs as soon as she’s released. Clarke has no doubt the silk dress will end up stained within the next half-hour. </p><p>Clarke lingers in the bathroom, fussing over her appearance. Nerves have her stomach fluttering. She’s out of practice with these things. The last event she went to was a fundraiser for Hopkins hospital with most of her co-workers. </p><p>People from her past are all waiting downstairs to launch questions at her. It’s been like this since she arrived in Arkadia and ran into people around town.</p><p>She feels their judgment bumping against her skin—for being a single mother, for <em> still </em>not being married, for her appearance and sexuality and anything under the sun. </p><p>Clarke takes a breath. Time to get this over with. </p><p>She goes downstairs and as soon as her feet hit the first floor, she is roped into an interrogation with Diana Sydney. A formidable woman on the Board of Directors at the hospital. </p><p>The rumor mill has been churning. Nothing stays a secret in Arkadia for long. </p><p>Clarke gets about a dozen invasive questions about her broken engagement to a lesbian in Polis. That’s her own damn fault for blabbering to Murphy at the bar. </p><p>The guests then see fit to stick their noses into Madi’s birth. They ask more rude questions about the method of how she was conceived. Or the agency that Clarke adopted her from. One person asks her outright if Bellamy is paying child support. </p><p>Marcus finds her when Clarke has escaped to the patio, needing some fresh air. </p><p>“Here.” He hands her a glass of champagne with a coy smile. “I think you’ve earned this.” </p><p>Clarke takes a hearty sip. The silence between her and her stepfather is comfortable as they gaze at the backyard. She’s always liked Marcus. He has a calming presence and he’s been good for her mother. </p><p>“I appreciate you doing this,” he says. “I know it can’t be easy for you.” </p><p>Clarke shrugs, her lips quirked. “Can’t hide from my past forever.” </p><p>Marcus lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “What you’re doing is brave, Clarke. Most people don’t have the courage to face their mistakes head-on.” </p><p>With those parting words, her stepfather slips back inside and leaves her to her quiet solitude. </p><p>Clarke is taken by surprise when she reenters the house and sees Raven.</p><p>She’s wearing a colorful maxi dress and her hair is loose for once, spilling over her bare shoulders. Raven is listening to a man speak with the expression that suggests everything he is saying is inaccurate. </p><p>A pang of nostalgia goes through her. Clarke misses her old friend. She used to be at her side, exchanging a sly look when that happened. They could have full conversations with their eyes. </p><p>Clarke waits for the conversation to wrap up before she cautiously approaches her. </p><p>Raven’s face hardens when she notices Clarke. “I came here for Abby. I have nothing to say to you.” </p><p>“I understand why you’re angry. I know I hurt you, Raven. And I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No you don’t,” Raven spits, her brown eyes carrying fire. “You <em> don’t </em>understand. You think you can abandon people, just cut yourself out of their lives and it doesn’t matter. But we’re the ones that have to clean up your mess.” </p><p>Raven’s loud voice draws a few looks from people nearby. Thankfully, the rest of the party going on is noisy enough to block out their conversation. The last thing Clarke wants to do is cause a scene and embarrass her mom. </p><p>Clarke swallows hard. She clenches the champagne flute so her hands won’t noticeably tremble. “You mean Bellamy.” </p><p>Raven scoffs. “Not just him. But, yeah, let’s talk about the way you ripped his heart out. You didn’t see him, Clarke. So don’t tell me you understand. You have no idea what it was like after you left.” </p><p>“You’re right,” she murmurs. “I don’t. I can’t make up for what’s already been done. All I’m asking for is a second chance. I want to fix what I broke.” </p><p>“We already did that,” Raven tells her bitterly. “Without your help. <em> We </em>put Bellamy back together. So I’m not going to let you come in here and ruin that. He’s happy again.” </p><p>“With Echo,” Clarke says.</p><p>The memory of Bellamy kissing Echo against her car flashes through her mind. Thinking of it again is like pressing her hand on a hot stove. Clarke knows it will hurt, but she doesn’t seem able to stop herself. </p><p>“I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” </p><p>Raven raises a skeptical eyebrow. “They live together. It’s serious. So don’t get any ideas about trying to win Bellamy back.” </p><p>“I’m happy for him. I’m not here to screw anything up or break up a relationship, Raven.”</p><p>“Then why are you here?” She demands, narrowing her gaze. “And spare me the bullshit about your shiny new job. Abby already told me.”</p><p>Clarke nods. She decides to be as honest as possible, knowing Raven will accept nothing less. </p><p>“My broken engagement had something to do with it,” she admits. “But I was tired of running away. I wanted to come home. And for Madi to be around her family. That’s the truth.” </p><p>She’s not sure if Raven believes her. Clarke doesn’t blame her, either, for expecting the worst of her. She has been a horrible friend to the other girl. Raven has no reason to trust her word now. </p><p>Still, something softens the prickly edges of Raven’s anger. She doesn’t speak for a few moments, her eyes still narrowed in thought as she swallows the rest of her champagne. </p><p>“Madi,” she says at last. “That’s your daughter?” </p><p>Clarke nods. If Harper hasn’t already told her, she imagines Raven will have heard about her during the party. What twisted version Raven got is probably far from the truth though, so she tells her about the loss of Madi’s biological parents and adopting her out of the foster system. </p><p>“It didn’t seem fair,” Clarke adds, “to keep Madi away from my mom and Marcus. If something happens to me, I want her to have people.” </p><p>“You going to abandon her too?” </p><p>Clarke’s jaw tightens, feeling her hackles rise. “No. Of course not.” </p><p>A brittle smirk forms on Raven’s lips. “Yeah? I thought the same thing until you disappeared without a word.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Clarke says again. “For not being here. I had my reasons for leaving, but I shouldn’t have cut you out, Raven. I should have said goodbye.” </p><p>“Screw your apologies,” she retorts. “They’re just empty words. That’s not good enough.” </p><p>Clarke shakes her head. “What am I supposed to do then? How can I fix it?”  </p><p>“Figure it out.” </p><p>Raven slams her champagne glass down on a table before walking away. Clarke watches the other girl as she finds Abby to say goodbye and gives a warm hug to the woman that’s a second mother to her. </p><p>Raven Reyes is the closest thing she has to a sister. After what they went through with Finn and came out on the other side, the bond between them ran deep and true. Another bond that Clarke broke. </p><p>Just like with Bellamy, Raven isn’t going to make this easy on her. At least her old friend didn’t demand that they stay out of each other’s lives. Clarke doesn't think she can take hearing that again. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Clarke’s hands shake as she approaches the circular reception desk. She curls them into fists at her sides. </p><p>The floor is bustling with noise and personnel darting from room to room. The hustle is familiar to Clarke’s ears, just as busy as any hospital floor. She has to wait for the redhead woman in front of her to hang up the phone. </p><p>“Can I help you?” </p><p>“I’m looking for Finn Collins,” Clarke answers. </p><p>Her heart skips out of rhythm in her chest. A part of her wishes for the woman to tell her he’s not there. That way she doesn’t have to force herself to look into the face of her nightmares for the past six years. </p><p>She can’t do anything about her friends being furious with her or Bellamy not wanting her in his life. But she can do <em>this. </em>She can try again to do better, be better. </p><p>The woman’s expression doesn’t change. The name means nothing to her, just one of many employees at the facility. “Are you a family member of a patient here?” </p><p>Clarke exhales slowly. “No. I’m...a friend of his. Do you mind paging him? I can wait if he’s busy.” </p><p>When Finn is paged, she goes to sit on a plastic chair against the wall. She doesn’t have to wait long. Time just moves slowly as Clarke listens to the frantic ticks of her pulse. </p><p>Ten minutes pass before he reaches the reception area, wearing a pair of navy blue scrubs. Finn’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing her. Hers do the same. </p><p>He looks startlingly different from the angry, lost boy she once knew. He’s a man now with dark scruff lining his chin and a grim look in his brown eyes that hints at everything he’s survived. </p><p>“Clarke…” Finn breathes. </p><p>She stands up on legs filled with jelly. Her instincts are screaming at her to run again. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t know how Finn will react to seeing her. </p><p>He might yell at her to leave. He might call security. He might repeat the same cruel words from her nightmares: <em> it’s her fault. She ruined his life.  </em></p><p>Finn approaches her in slow, cautious steps. He’s gauging her reaction to his every move. When she remains still, he carefully reaches out to put his arms around her. </p><p>He’s <em>hugging </em>her. Clarke is too shocked to move. Her arms hang limply at her sides until he takes a step away. </p><p>“Sorry,” Finn says, smiling sheepishly. “Was that too much? It’s just so good to see you.” </p><p>“It is?” </p><p>Finn takes in her expression, his smile fading. His lips press together. “Why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk?” </p><p>This Finn is different not just in appearance but on the inside as well. His younger counterpart would <em>tell </em>her what they were doing and take off, expecting her to follow him. </p><p>This older, wary version tilts his head to the side and patiently waits for her to nod in agreement. He walks beside her quietly as he leads them down a hallway to a glass side door. The door opens into a small courtyard. </p><p>“We have this so our patients can get some fresh air and sunlight,” Finn explains. </p><p>They sit down at a wooden picnic bench. There’s a garden in the courtyard that someone has attended to and the air smells like fresh flowers.</p><p>“How long have you been working here?” She asks, going for an easy question to start with. </p><p>“Two years,” he says, his knuckles tapping on the wood. “My music career didn’t pan out, which was a blessing in disguise, honestly. That scene was bad for my mental health. All the drugs and partying. I’m grateful to have ended up here.” </p><p>Tears sting her eyes. It’s too much. She never thought she’d hear Finn say he was <em>grateful </em>to be where he is, to be alive at all. </p><p>“Sorry,” Clarke sniffles, trying to blink them away. </p><p>Finn’s face softens. “It’s okay, Clarke.” </p><p>She shakes her head, laughing wetly. “God. Who <em> are </em>you?” </p><p>He cracks a small smile. “I know. It’s been a while. You didn’t get to see me rise up from rock bottom. You look good though, Clarke.” </p><p>“I am.” </p><p>She tells him about moving back to Arkadia and her job as a doctor, only because he seems genuinely interested in hearing about her life. They circle around the elephant in the courtyard until she has to come back to it. </p><p>“I didn’t come here to talk about me though,” Clarke says softly. </p><p>Finn lays his hand over hers. “Well, I hope you didn’t come here to apologize. Because there’s nothing you have to be sorry for.” </p><p>The tears flood her eyes again. Her throat tightens, making it difficult to get the words she needs to say out. </p><p>“I have everything to apologize for. I never should have—”</p><p>“No,” Finn cuts her off gently. “Shh, no, Clarke. This isn’t on you. I hate that you’ve spent the last few years believing that. You aren’t responsible for what happened. I am.” </p><p>It hurts to hear him say that. The words do nothing to lift the suffocating guilt that still chokes her. Clarke doesn’t deserve his absolution. </p><p>Finn goes on as she cries, his voice soft and laced with regret. “You had every right to move on, to hate me for how I treated you. I’m the one that should be begging for your forgiveness. I cheated on you. I tried to take your happiness away from you. I blamed you for my mistakes.” </p><p>Clarke shakes her head. It wasn’t all his fault. He was mentally ill and not getting any help. As far as she’s concerned, they are both to blame for their behavior and what led Finn to the back of an ambulance that night. </p><p>That night is permanently engraved into her mind, a stain on her soul. She’ll never forget the hollow sound of Finn’s voice on the other line when he called her at 1 in the morning to tell her what he’d done. To tell her one last time that it was <em>her </em> fault he had nothing left. </p><p>She still sees the image of him behind her eyes sometimes, his body pale and lifeless in the tub and the bright red blood that gushed from the deep cuts on his wrists. </p><p>Clarke never told anyone about the phone call or finding Finn like that. Not Bellamy. Not her mother. Not Raven. She bore it all alone. </p><p>And that was her mistake, one of many. To think she could handle the weight of Finn’s suicide attempt on her own without being crushed under it. She couldn’t. All Clarke could do was run away from the pain she didn’t want to live with every day. </p><p>As if being somewhere else, being someone else, could make it go away. </p><p>“I shouldn’t have left,” Clarke repeats hoarsely. “You were recovering. I should have been there.” </p><p>“No,” Finn says, firm. “It wasn’t on you to save me. I had to heal on my own, Clarke. I had to get help and deal with my shit and stop blaming you and Raven and Bellamy and the <em>world </em>for where I ended up. I’m sorry I put that on you.” </p><p>Clarke cries harder, her hand pressed to her mouth to muffle the sobs. She doesn’t know how to take his forgiveness or how to stop condemning herself. She’s been doing it for years. </p><p>“I thought you hated me,” she says in a small voice.</p><p>“I did,” he admits, regret deep in his eyes. “I hated myself more. There was so much inside me, Clarke, I had to get it out. It wasn’t fair to you. I don’t blame you for needing to leave me, okay?” </p><p>The memories are rising up, faster than she can stop them, slamming into her in hit after hit. The time before Bellamy, before she knew what it felt like to be loved wholly and selflessly and without pain. </p><p>The first time her heart broke was when she found out about Raven. The second time was worse. Finn showed up at her house, drunk, begging for her to forgive him and then came the anger, yelling at her for ruining everything. </p><p>Her heart had been shattered so many times by the time she was seventeen, she was surprised there was anything left to give, for Bellamy to fall in love with. </p><p>Clarke was so happy with him. It felt like forever. It felt like finally getting something right. </p><p>“Do you hate <em> me</em>?” He asks carefully, scared of her answer. “I understand if you do.” </p><p>She takes a breath, releases it slowly. “No. I don’t. Not anymore. I did, for a long time, but...I didn’t want to keep feeling that way. It was too heavy.” </p><p>Finn nods, his hand rubbing her back soothingly. It’s so strange to be around this version of him. Clarke has only seen glimpses of the kind man he <em>could </em>be. </p><p>When he pulls his arm back, she sees the jagged scar across his wrist in a patch of sunlight. She can’t help but stare. His wrists were bandaged in the hospital when she last saw him. This is the first time she’s viewing the aftermath. </p><p>Her insides twist at the sight, a painful mix of sadness and relief. He was furious with her for calling the ambulance that night, but she doesn't regret it. He's alive. </p><p>Clarke sniffles, looking back at him with hope crowding her heart. “Are you doing better now?” </p><p>He nods. “Yeah, I am. It’s been a long road to get here. I mean, I’m living with depression, you know? I have good days and some really bad days, but I’m managing it better now. Working here has been helpful too.” </p><p>Finn tells her about his time as a patient, shortly after she left. He was put on suicide watch. For a while, he resisted treatment and was too angry with everyone else to accept help. </p><p>Clarke cries again, silent tears dripping down her face, as she listens to his story from the past few years.</p><p>Finn says he fell into a narcotics addiction to numb his pain. He had easy access to drugs on the music scene with his band and no one was around to stop him after he had alienated the good people from his life. </p><p>He had an overdose that nearly killed him. It was Raven that found him unconscious at his place and brought him in. Finn credits her and his sponsor for saving his life, getting him into rehab and Narcotics Anonymous. </p><p>It’s been a painful road to recovery, but Finn claims he’s gotten up from his rock bottom and has been sober for two years. </p><p>Now he’s working as a counselor here at Mount Weather, doing group therapy for patients with addiction. </p><p>“It’s rewarding work. You get it. You’re a healer too.” </p><p>Clarke nods. “I do. That’s why I went to med school. I wanted to be able to help people, not cause any more hurt.” </p><p>They talk for a little while longer, catching up. She shows him pictures of Madi. Then Finn gets paged and has to get back to work. This time when he hugs her goodbye, Clarke is able to return the embrace. </p><p>“You’re okay, Clarke,” he murmurs into her ear. “You can forgive yourself now.” </p><p>She walks out of Mount Weather’s facility in a daze. The whole experience of seeing Finn again is surreal, let alone seeing him content and at peace. It will take time for her to process what they talked about. </p><p>But as painful as it was to revisit those memories, it was the healing kind of pain. Closure. The closure Clarke couldn’t reach hundreds of miles away in Polis, burying herself in work or in years of therapy. </p><p>She needed to hear it from Finn, from the boy she felt responsible for failing. She didn’t ruin his life. They’re both okay. </p><p>As Clarke takes a breath of air on the steps of Mount Weather, she repeats a new mantra. <em> You can forgive yourself now.  </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>She needs to clear her head. Clarke isn’t the type of person to take days off from work unless absolutely necessary. But for this, she makes an exception. She can’t give her patients the care they deserve if her head isn’t in the game. </p><p>Her heart certainly isn’t. So Clarke uses a sick day. After dropping Madi off at her mom's, she changes into a paint-stained shirt and a pair of worn overalls. Driving around with the windows rolled down, she almost feels sixteen again. </p><p>The nostalgia is hitting her hard when Clarke parks in front of the studio. She hasn’t been here in years, but the place hasn’t changed. </p><p>Her friend, Luna, is still running a meditative yoga class on the first floor. She gives Clarke a distracted nod and leaves her alone to climb the stairs to the top floor. </p><p>Luna’s calming voice blends into the background. And once Clarke turns on her music, everything else fades away. </p><p>The top floor is barely more than storage space. But there’s a back room that’s reserved for only those that know about it. Clarke slips out of her shoes when she reaches it, walking on bare feet across the tarp-covered floor. </p><p>One of the walls is painted with colorful splashes from someone else’s visit. Clarke finds a bare wall to start flinging paint-filled balloons at. </p><p>She used to come here on bad days in her adolescence. Her safe haven. Clarke could blast loud music and throw paint and forget about the problems that seem almost small and trivial in retrospect. </p><p>It works as well as it did then. With every balloon that explodes against the wall, she feels better. The tension seeps out of her body and her mind quiets down. </p><p>For a little while, Clarke forgets about the people that hate her. She forgets about her guilt. She forgets about the ache she carries in her chest, the gaping loss of Bellamy. </p><p>Until he appears in front of her. </p><p>“Shit,” Clarke swears, eyes widening. </p><p>Her voice is drowned out by the music blaring from her phone. The silence is deafening when she clicks it off and leaves only her pulse thundering in her ears. </p><p>Bellamy is standing by the stairs, his hands tucked into his pockets. If it weren’t for his different looks, Clarke would think she conjured him from her memories. </p><p>But this isn’t <em>her </em>Bellamy finding her after a bad day with his sweet smile and listening ear. This older Bellamy wears his emotions closer to his chest. She can’t get a read on him—unless he is yelling at her to stay away from him. </p><p>Clarke crosses her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?” </p><p>The last person she expected to find her is him. It can’t be a coincidence that he’s here at Luna’s place and yet it makes no sense. Bellamy made himself clear that he wants nothing to do with her. </p><p>She’s respected that. God, it has nearly killed her, but she has. Clarke hasn’t seen him in weeks. She doesn’t let herself ask their friends how he’s doing, telling herself she doesn’t deserve to know. </p><p>Bellamy shifts his weight where he stands. His expression is unreadable. “I was driving by. I saw your car parked outside.” </p><p>That doesn’t answer her question. The <em>why</em>. Why would he come in here, knowing he would see her? </p><p>
  <em> I wish you had stayed in Polis and never showed up here. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We don't know each other anymore. That's the way it has to be. </em>
</p><p>His words linger on her skin like bruises, tender to touch. Still she’s gone over them a hundred times. </p><p>Clarke tilts her head. He must read her confusion because Bellamy lets out a sigh. </p><p>He rubs a hand across his face. “I know you only come here when you’re upset, Clarke. And I just…” He trails off, his gaze focusing on her. “Are you okay?” </p><p>The shock buzzes in her veins. He still cares. Somewhere deep down is still <em>her </em>Bellamy. She could cry at the realization. </p><p>Clarke clears her throat. “No,” she says honestly. “Not really. You?” </p><p>Bellamy gives a sharp, bitter laugh. “No. I’m feeling like shit, actually.” </p><p>She waits. She doesn’t dare speak a word or move, scared of turning him away. This is more than Clarke can ask for, having him here, re-opening that line of connection between them. </p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bellamy says firmly. </p><p>Well, she’s not surprised he doesn’t want to talk to her. What’s surprising is when he walks over to the barrel of paint-filled balloons and digs one out for himself. </p><p>Bellamy throws the balloon across the room where it lands against the wall in a splatter of red paint. He picks up more balloons and she watches him launch them with more force than is probably necessary, leaving behind colorful streaks. </p><p>“Cathartic,” he notes. </p><p>“Imagining the wall is my head?” She guesses. </p><p>Bellamy smirks. “You’re not the only person that pisses me off, Clarke.” </p><p>They throw their paint balloons in silence. Clarke can’t find the same peace she felt before with Bellamy there and everything that’s unspoken between them, but she doesn’t mind sharing the space. </p><p>Her phone chimes in her purse when it’s time to pick up Madi. Her mother and Marcus have plans that evening. </p><p>Bellamy follows her lead silently when Clarke stops. They clean their hands in the bathroom sink, muddy paint water swirling down the drain. The brush of Bellamy’s arm against hers leaves behind tingles under her skin. </p><p>Clarke is scared to break this fragile truce or whatever this afternoon is. But a larger, braver part of her can’t let Bellamy go. Never again. </p><p>“Bellamy,” she murmurs. </p><p>His shoulders tense, gripping the stair's railing with a tight fist. He’s uncomfortable around her, but he hasn’t walked away yet. </p><p>“Why did you come in here?” </p><p>His lips turn down into a rueful grimace. “Our past means something to me. Even if I wish it didn’t. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” </p><p>He’s a good man. He always has been. Selfless to the core. It hurts him to be around her, yet he still stopped by. </p><p>Clarke swallows roughly. “Raven isn’t answering my calls,” she admits. “It’s been harder than I thought to be home. I needed to clear my head.” </p><p>She doesn’t tell him about seeing Finn. Not yet. That conversation, the <em>truth</em>, feels too big for her to tackle in her worn-down state. And the ceasefire between them is too fragile. </p><p>Bellamy nods his chin. He’s not quite meeting her eyes, muscles tensed as he listens. </p><p>“I hate this,” she hisses. </p><p>His expression tightens like he’s in pain. “<em>Clarke</em>.” </p><p>She takes a tentative step closer to him. He won’t let her, of course, but she’s compelled to comfort him when he’s upset. Her hand is outstretched toward him and she has to curl it into a fist. </p><p>“We were friends once,” Clarke continues. “Before...You were my best friend, Bellamy. Is there any way we can get back to that?” </p><p>There’s too much history between them. A tapestry of complex emotions and broken promises. She doesn’t blame him for needing distance, but she has to keep trying. They have something worth salvaging. </p><p>Bellamy’s gaze finally shifts to meet hers, his brown eyes pained. His lips part, but no words find their way out. The silence is its own answer, heavy and bitter in the air. </p><p>
  <em> No.  </em>
</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Bellamy rasps. She can tell that he means it. </p><p>Clarke shakes her head and gives him a wan, sad smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I have to go.” </p><p>She can feel his gaze following her as she winds around him and descends the stairs, a hard lump lodged in her throat. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading ❤️</p><p>Can't wait for your thoughts/reactions!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. one night to speed up truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! Thanks for being patient. My summer classes started last week, so I've been a bit busy. </p><p>Can you believe we're a week away from s7? It still doesn't feel real. </p><p>Anyway, I love reading your comments on this story. This a big chapter and we're <i> finally </i> getting to that Bellamy/Madi meeting...and one step closer to the Griffin-Blake family 😉</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Mrs. Fox calls out with a stomach bug. Bellamy offers to cover her shift for pick-up duty. His Wednesday afternoon is light, so he doesn’t mind staying a little longer after the school day ends. </p><p>This puts him on the other side of campus where the elementary school lets out. Bellamy finds a spot in the shade to supervise the kids being picked up by their parents and caretakers.</p><p>There are only a few students in his section and they’re pretty well-behaved, keeping themselves entertained. </p><p>The older students from 5th grade are the problem. Bellamy eyes the rowdy boys rough-housing and yelling expletives that he doesn’t remember knowing when he was ten. Mr. Fletcher is in charge of watching them and he’s having mixed results. </p><p>After half an hour, the pick-up starts clearing out and there are only a couple of kids left in his section.</p><p>One small girl with wild brown hair is drawing quietly while the other little boy is playing on his game console. </p><p>He leans closer to glance at the drawing. He’s pleasantly surprised by the girl’s skill. She can’t be older than 7 years old. </p><p>“That’s pretty good, kid,” he tells her. </p><p>The girl glances up and flashes him an adorable smile. “Thanks.” </p><p>She notices her parent must have arrived to pick her up. The girl stuffs her sketchbook into her purple bookbag and stands up from the grass. He notices her name embroidered on the bookbag. <em> Madi.  </em></p><p>Bellamy calls her name before she can go running into the parking lot. </p><p>“My mom’s here,” she huffs at him, annoyed at being stopped. </p><p>Bellamy smiles slightly. She’s got a lot of spunk for someone so small. “Those are the rules, kid. Your mom can pick you here.” </p><p>He can’t say he’s expecting to see her. Not here. He should have seen it coming, if only for the fact that she manages to show up everywhere else. </p><p>Clarke strides over to them. Dark sunglasses shade her eyes and she’s wearing a leather jacket. He tries not to notice the way her tight jeans hug her figure. </p><p>“Sorry, honey,” Clarke says, out of breath. “My surgery ran late.” </p><p>She reaches down to collect Madi’s bag. </p><p>Bellamy feels a step behind. No. Ten steps behind. He can’t make sense of what’s happening in front of him, too blindsided by Clarke being here and the storm of emotions that tears through him whenever he sees her. </p><p>Everything has taken a backseat to his shock once it all clicks together. Madi is Clarke’s <em>daughter</em>. Clarke has a child. Clarke is a mother. </p><p>Bellamy can’t get a single word out. He stands there stupidly, mouth agape, as Clarke takes the girl’s hand in hers. </p><p>Clarke gives him a sharp look. He can read her face even with the sunglasses on. <em> Don’t make a scene in front of Madi</em>. </p><p>Bellamy wouldn’t. Even if he could find his voice, he’d never do that in front of a child. Her child. And a part of him hurts that she thinks he would do something like that. God. They really don’t know each other at all. </p><p>He watches them leave hand-in-hand, disappearing into the parking lot. </p><p>Bellamy runs a hand down his face. Will Clarke ever stop blindsiding him?</p><p>First, the engagement. Now, this. He still hasn’t caught his breath from seeing her at the hospital after six years. What else does she have to throw at him? </p><p>He has to wait for the last boy to be collected by his father. Then Bellamy is walking to his car, stuck in a daze.</p><p>He sits in the driver’s seat for a while, the engine running, while his mind turns itself over and over. It’s a struggle to make this new piece of information fit into his reality. </p><p>And then one thought shatters the ground beneath his feet. </p><p>Bellamy throws the car into drive before he knows what he’s doing. He’s a man possessed. All he can see is the way Madi’s small hand holds the pencil. The shade of her dark hair. The shape of her nose. </p><p>He’s on the road before he realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. With a shaking hand, he pulls out his phone and dials a number he still knows by memory. </p><p>Her voice is unsure when she answers. “Bellamy?” </p><p>Fuck. Hearing her voice say his name is like a fist twisting his gut. Every time. “What’s your address?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Bellamy clenches his teeth. “Clarke, I need to talk to you. It’s important. What’s your address?” </p><p>She hesitates for another moment. In retrospect, he can’t blame her. He sounds insane.</p><p>But finally, she rattles off the name of the apartment building and the number that she lives in now. She'll have to buzz him in when he arrives. </p><p>He doesn’t remember the drive to the building. Everything passes by him in a blur. There is just the hammer of his pulse in his ears and the pressing, consuming need to get answers that sends him hurtling towards her. </p><p>She’s waiting in the doorway for him when he reaches the twelfth floor, panting for breath. Her blue eyes are wide and there’s a flicker of alarm in them. </p><p>Considering their tumultuous relationship at the moment, he doesn't blame her. </p><p>Bellamy charges forward. “Is she mine?” </p><p>“Excuse me?” </p><p>He shakes his head. He thinks he’s shaking all over. “The little girl you picked up at school today. Your—your <em>daughter</em>. Is she—?”</p><p>There’s a shift behind her eyes when she understands what he’s asking. Then, Clarke’s face becomes unreadable again, shutting down.</p><p>Her lips pressed into a tight line, she shuts the apartment door before she turns to face him in the hallway. </p><p>“No.” </p><p>How can you feel a loss for something that was never yours?</p><p>The pain is immediate and devastating. Bellamy didn’t think he had enough time to process, to come to terms with the possibility that Madi might be his daughter. Maybe his head didn’t, but his heart still breaks. </p><p>Clarke softens as she stares at him. She must see the loss all over him like fingerprints. “I would have told you, Bellamy. I never would have kept something like that from you.” </p><p>Bellamy pushes his fingers through his hair, tugging roughly at the strands. She doesn’t speak, letting him breathe deeply and regain control of himself. He is suddenly, emotionally, exhausted. </p><p>“You didn’t tell me you have a daughter.” </p><p>“We haven’t had the chance to talk about it.” </p><p>
  <em> Because I told you to stay out of my life and you listened.  </em>
</p><p>He hasn’t seen her in two weeks. Not since that afternoon they threw paint balloons at Luna’s studio. He’s been trying very hard not to think about that, to remember how good it felt just to be around her. </p><p>He missed her. There was no other explanation for why he showed up that day. For all his talk and his anger, he couldn’t stay away from her. Especially when there was a chance that she needed him. </p><p>Bellamy expected her to reach out again. He dreaded the thought of her showing up at The Lantern again to apologize or leaving sorry voicemails on his phone. </p><p>None of that happened. It was like she disappeared again. Except he knew from his friends that she still lived in Arkadia. Clarke was just avoiding him in particular. </p><p>Bellamy doesn’t know how he feels about it. If he’s relieved that she isn’t begging for his forgiveness or disappointed that she gave up.</p><p>Maybe both. Maybe this just proves him right that Clarke doesn’t care how he feels. He didn’t influence her decision to leave Arkadia in the first place or to come back. </p><p>Shame creeps in the longer Bellamy stands in the hallway. He just barged into her building and demanded answers for nothing. </p><p>“I should go.” </p><p>He turns around, heading toward the elevator, only to be stopped by Clarke’s voice. </p><p>“Bellamy, wait!” </p><p>He glances back at her. Clarke has a furrow to her brows that suggests she’s contemplating something. He waits and then she comes to a decision. </p><p>“Would...would you like to meet her?” </p><p>He met her earlier that day at the pick-up, but he knows what Clarke means. She’s asking him to come into her apartment, into her new life here and meet her daughter. The weight of that isn’t lost on him. </p><p>Bellamy swallows thickly. “Okay.” </p><p>Surprise shines in Clarke’s eyes. She thought he’d say no. </p><p>She opens the door and he follows her into the apartment, taking in the space. He can’t help but be curious about where she lives and who she is now. </p><p>The place is small, cozy, and colorful. There is art on the walls mixed in with the kitsch decor and lived-in messiness that he remembers about her. He almost asks her if she still has the “eat pussy, it’s organic” sign in her bedroom before he bites the question back. </p><p>It's inappropriate. But mostly he doesn't want to think about where her stuff went after she moved out of their place. </p><p>“I’ll get Madi,” Clarke murmurs and leaves him alone. </p><p>He walks around, taking a closer look at the drawings pinned up on the fridge. So Clarke is that kind of mom. He knew she would be. Bragging to anyone about her child’s accomplishments, even just their sketches. </p><p>He hears the patter of feet on the hardwood floors. Madi emerges from the hallway. This time when he sees her, there’s a flare of recognition and excitement lighting up her blue eyes. </p><p>“You’re Bellamy!” </p><p>A smile pulls at his lips. “That’s right. It’s nice to meet you, Madi.” </p><p>She throws her small self into his arms for a hug. Bellamy isn’t prepared for that. He doesn’t know what Clarke told her daughter about him. Considering how he’s treated her recently, he doesn’t feel worthy of her daughter’s hug. </p><p>Clarke watches them embrace from a few feet away. There’s a soft curve to her lips. </p><p>Madi reaches for his hand next. “Come on! I’ll show you my room.” </p><p>She tows him behind her and he has no choice but to follow. They duck into her bedroom where Madi directs him to sit in a purple bean bag chair.</p><p>She proudly shows off her many toys and rambles too fast for him to keep up, but he laughs at her energy. </p><p>Her bedroom wall takes his breath away. He knows immediately that Clarke painted the mural for her daughter. The backdrop is a bright blue sky with swirls of white, wispy clouds. Madi’s name is painted in a beautiful script above her bed. </p><p>Clarke joins them about twenty minutes later. She’s only wearing a striped T-shirt and her jeans now, her hair pulled into a short ponytail. </p><p>“Okay, Madi. You’ve got homework to do. Say goodbye to Bellamy.” </p><p>“No!” Madi whines. “He didn’t get to tell me a story yet.” </p><p>Bellamy must make his confusion known because Madi turns to him to explain, "Mom says you tell the <em>best</em> stories." </p><p>His cheeks warm. Bellamy glances at his ex-girlfriend, caught between surprise and wonder. </p><p>She knows he used to read to Octavia when she was small. When his little sister grew bored of the same stories, he made up tales for her entertainment about brave, warrior princesses and demi-gods that saved the human race from monsters. </p><p>Clarke loved to listen to him when they were together. Only she preferred the romances. Her favorite was his rendition of Penelope faithfully waiting for Odysseus to return to her.  </p><p>Clarke’s expression wavers with nervousness before it smooths out. “Maybe some other time. He has to get going.” </p><p>It tugs something at his heart. He almost tells her he has nowhere else he has to be. Then reality sinks in.</p><p>He remembers Echo waiting for him at home. This isn’t the life he once imagined with Clarke coming true. The truth is harsher. </p><p>The truth is that Madi isn’t his. The truth is that Clarke moved away, had a fiancée, a daughter, and a life in Polis that didn’t include him. Bellamy is just a relic from her past left behind. </p><p>Madi is still pouting, so Bellamy reaches out to tweak her nose. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll be back soon. You gotta listen to your mom though, okay?” </p><p>“You’re a teacher, right?” </p><p>He nods. “For middle school. So yeah, I know what I’m talking about. Do your homework.” </p><p>Madi giggles at his stern teacher's voice. She gives him another hug and he tries not to get choked up as he hugs her back. </p><p>He trails behind Clarke out of Madi’s bedroom. They linger by the front door, Bellamy with his hands in his pockets and Clarke fiddling with the strap of her dad’s watch. </p><p>“She’s a good kid, Clarke,” he tells her. </p><p>Clarke smiles. “Yeah. She’s the one thing I haven’t screwed up. Yet.” </p><p>Bellamy’s brow creases. “Don’t do that. You’re a great mom.” </p><p>That earns him a strange look. “Now you’re complimenting me? You’ve met Madi once.” </p><p>“I’ve seen what I need to see,” he argues. “She’s taken care of. You painted that mural for her, didn’t you?” </p><p>Clarke’s head ducks. “Yeah. She had one in our house in Polis too.” </p><p>Tension thickens the air in the room with the mention of Polis. Bellamy waits for the rage to choke him again, for the urge to get away from her, but it doesn’t come. He’s just curious about her life with Madi. </p><p>Clarke relaxes when she realizes he isn’t going to blow up or storm out. “Do you want anything to drink? I have Dr. Pepper.” </p><p>“You hate Dr. Pepper,” he points out. </p><p>She used to complain when he tasted like the soda and tried to kiss her. Then she kissed him anyway. </p><p>She shrugs, crossing the kitchen over to the fridge. “I don’t mind it anymore.” </p><p>They sit at the small kitchen table. Bellamy sips at the soda as he pictures their mornings in this kitchen. Clarke making herself coffee and pouring a bowl of cereal for her daughter while Madi chatters at the table. </p><p>“Tell me about her,” he prods when Clarke seems lost in her thoughts. </p><p>“I took Madi in when she was a baby as a foster child. Her parents died in a fire and she had no other living family. It felt...I don’t know. Like something that was meant to be. Like I found the reason why I was in Polis.” </p><p>“And you adopted her?” </p><p>Clarke nods. “The process took some time, but yes. I was able to adopt her and give her a real home. That’s part of why I stayed there so long. We built our life there. But Polis wasn’t supposed to be...permanent.” </p><p>Bellamy latches onto that. She hadn’t intended to stay in Polis forever. To stay away. </p><p>His throat feels bone-dry. He takes a long sip of his drink. “What were the other parts? The other reasons?” </p><p>“I was finishing medical school there. And then there was Lexa.” Her expression becomes pinched. “That’s a long story.” </p><p>He doesn’t ask to hear it. Bellamy doesn’t think he can stomach listening to her talk about her relationship with someone else.</p><p>It’s painful to imagine this woman’s ring on Clarke’s finger. Remembering the plans he had, years ago, to get down on one knee and ask her to be <em>his </em>wife. </p><p>Clarke is staring at him when he shakes away from those thoughts. He can’t let himself go down that path again, ensnared in memory and the <em>what-ifs.  </em></p><p>“It’s nice being able to talk to you again.” </p><p>His hand clenches around the soda can. “You could have talked to me, Clarke. I was right here.” </p><p>She tilts her head at him, doubtful. “Would you have answered if I called you?” </p><p>His mouth quirks into a rueful smile. Nothing about them is funny, really. “I don’t know. Maybe not. But it would have been better than six years of silence.” </p><p>“You’re right,” she says softly. “I should have tried harder. I was afraid to face you after what I did. Being in Polis, away from everything, made it easy for me to hide.” </p><p><em> Easy</em>. A small four-letter word that stabs into his chest. </p><p>Nothing about the time after she left was <em>easy </em>for him. He tore himself apart trying to figure out what he did wrong. Why Clarke left him. Agonized over the question if she ever loved him at all. </p><p>He drove his friends away. Picked fights with whoever dared to give him the wrong look. He spent most weekends black-out drunk. More often than not, he woke up naked next to strangers.  Bellamy used whatever he could get his hands on to escape. Sex and alcohol. </p><p>Murphy and Miller had to pick his ass up off the bar floor and carry him home, not that he remembered those times. It was his lowest point. </p><p>There he was, heartbroken and pathetic, over losing the love of his life. While Clarke was finding it easy to forget about him and falling in love with Lexa. </p><p>Clarke reaches across the table for him. “Bellamy—”</p><p>He shoves to his feet. She watches him with wide, panicked eyes and he has to pull in deep breaths. He’s not going to yell at her here, in her house, where Madi might hear them. </p><p>“I have to go,” he says, clipped. </p><p>Clarke jumps up to run after him. “Bellamy, wait! Please. Let’s talk about this.” </p><p>“This was a mistake.” </p><p>She flinches. </p><p>Then, a steely look enters her eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long time. She tilts her chin up stubbornly at him.</p><p>“You’re the one that showed up here and demanded that I tell you things that are none of your business.” </p><p>Oh, they’re going to play that game? </p><p>As if the possibility of a child—<em> their </em>child—is none of his business. </p><p>He can’t speak, grinding his jaw so hard to keep himself from shouting at her. Bellamy swears there are only two people in the world that can make him this crazy, this unhinged with his emotions and Clarke Griffin is one of them. </p><p>“Let me ask you something,” Clarke demands. “How is it that you can forgive <em> Echo </em>but not me?” </p><p>“That is completely different,” he growls. </p><p>“How? How is it different, Bellamy? She broke your sister’s arm! Or did you forget the cast that my mother put her in?” </p><p>“That’s not—”</p><p>“She bullied you for years,” Clarke says, speaking over him. “She made our lives hell. Do you not remember the shit she said about Gina? Or me?” </p><p>“I know what she's done. But Echo’s changed. She’s not the same person she was before.” </p><p>She presses her lips together. He recognizes the face that Clarke has when she wants to argue but thinks the other person isn't worth her breath. It pisses him off to be on the receiving end of that look. </p><p>“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Bellamy says hotly. “Who I’m dating is none of your concern.” </p><p>“I see. After everything she’s done, you can forgive her. But you can’t be around me longer than ten minutes.” </p><p>"I <em>trusted</em> you," he hisses. "That's the difference, Clarke!" </p><p>She has nothing to say to that. He can't stop the flow of his words then, exhumed from the place he's had them buried.  </p><p>“The difference is,” he says. “Echo doesn’t hide from her mistakes. She was here, making the effort to be a better person and proving herself. She was <em>here </em>and you were—” </p><p>Bellamy grinds his jaw, cutting himself off. </p><p>
  <em>You weren't. </em>
</p><p>Hurt wells behind Clarke’s eyes when the words leave his mouth. Her expression hardens. </p><p>“You should go.” </p><p>He doesn’t need to be told twice. The door shuts behind him with a click. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bellamy doesn’t go home. He drives straight to the bar and starts drinking. </p><p>Tomorrow is a school day. He can’t get wasted. But it’s all too much, the argument with Clarke, finding out about Madi. He needs a drink to take the edge off and make him feel less like he’s going to break apart. </p><p>Monty finds him there, slumped on a barstool, and glaring into his glass. He takes the empty stool beside him quietly. </p><p>The buzz he has going makes him sluggish. Bellamy doesn’t get how Monty knew he was here, at first, until he remembers Murphy is behind the bar. The bastard must have told him. </p><p>Bellamy flips him off and Murphy blows him a kiss. </p><p>“You doing okay?” Monty asks him. </p><p>He snorts. “What does it look like?” </p><p>Monty doesn’t get put off by his snarky tone. He’s a good friend. Better than Bellamy deserves. </p><p>“I’m not getting drunk,” Bellamy says, loud and defensive to his ears. “This isn’t like before. I don’t need a babysitter.” </p><p>Monty is calm and patient. That’s probably why he was called in, the least likely of Bellamy’s friends to get punched.</p><p>“Okay. What happened?” </p><p>Bellamy throws back the rest of his vodka and slams the glass down. “Clarke has a kid. A daughter. And nobody bothered to tell me about it.” </p><p>In his peripheral vision, Monty winces. “It wasn’t our place. We thought Clarke should be the one to tell you when she was ready.” </p><p>“She didn’t,” he spits. “I found out by being at the school at the right time. I had to show up at her place just to get the whole story. I swear to God, getting the truth out of Clarke is like pulling fucking teeth!” </p><p>He finishes his drink. Murphy doesn’t slide over another, which is for the best. He’s enough of a mess right now without getting drunk. </p><p>“I thought she was mine,” he says, quieter. “Madi. I thought she was my kid. That Clarke got pregnant and that was why she…” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>The loss twinges behind his ribs. This morning, Bellamy didn’t know there was a possibility that he might be a father. But now it’s like that gaping hole inside him has been there forever and nothing can fill it. His body aches with want. </p><p>He wanted this, once. He dreamed about it. Conceiving a baby with Clarke. Being there for every stage of her pregnancy, every doctor’s appointment, watching her belly grow with <em>their </em>child. Clarke would paint the nursery in their house and he would lovingly build the crib. </p><p>Monty’s voice is gentle when he speaks. “I’ve never heard you talk about Echo like that.” </p><p>Belatedly, Bellamy realizes he must have been rambling out loud. His girlfriend’s name is like a dousing of ice water. </p><p>Bellamy’s head snaps up to glare at his friend. “What is that supposed to mean?” </p><p>Monty raises his hands. “I just mean, you had every step mapped out with Clarke. The proposal, marriage, kids. I haven’t heard you mention the future with Echo before.” </p><p>“I was twenty-five, Monty. I didn’t know any better than to make big plans that worked out perfectly in my head. Now I do. Now I know that real life doesn’t give a shit about your plans.” </p><p>The future hasn’t turned out like he thought it would be and it’s doing his head in. That’s all.</p><p>The twenty-five-year-old Bellamy was naive. He didn’t know that Clarke would leave him or that he and his sister would stop talking. He didn’t see it coming—that the two people he loved most in the world would break his heart. </p><p>“It’s okay if you wish that things had gone differently,” Monty says. “If you wish that Madi—”</p><p>“I don’t,” Bellamy cuts him off firmly. </p><p>He can’t go down that road again. It leads him to nowhere. That <em>in another life </em>thinking didn’t do him any favors. This is reality and Bellamy has to keep his feet on the ground. </p><p>So, his life plans didn’t work out. He’s happier than not. He has a job that he enjoys and great friends. He has a girlfriend at home that loves him. </p><p>Echo is loyal. He’s never been afraid of her walking out on him. They have a real commitment. Bellamy shouldn’t be sitting in a bar sulking over the past. None of that matters now. </p><p>He reaches over to squeeze Monty’s shoulder and forces a smile. “I’m going home. Thanks for the talk, but I’m fine. I promise.” </p><p>Monty watches him pull out a bill from his wallet with a frown. “Are you sure? You seemed really upset.” </p><p>His lips twist into a smirk. “Yeah, well, Clarke has that effect on me these days. I shouldn’t have gone over to her place. The past is never where you left it, right?” </p><p>Bellamy sends Echo a text that he’s on his way and pushes out of the bar’s doors. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bellamy has never been a good liar. He wears his emotions too close to the surface to pull that off and he prefers when people are straightforward with him. He does his best to be honest with them in return. </p><p>It seems like he can’t lie to himself either.</p><p>Monty’s words buzz in his ear like a fly he can’t swat away. <em> ‘I’ve never heard you talk about Echo like that’.  </em></p><p>Because they aren’t like that. The most planning he and Echo do for the future is where they’re going out for dinner that weekend.</p><p>Even the act of her moving into his place wasn’t a big deal. She spent most nights there anyway and his place was close to her work. So he asked her one morning over breakfast and she said yes. </p><p>What they have is easy. They don’t fight often. Their biggest relationship hurdle was becoming friends with their complicated history, but they moved on. Echo didn’t like talking about the past and Bellamy was fine with that. They stayed in the present. </p><p>He didn’t think of it as being stagnant. Not until that conversation with Monty. And now Bellamy realizes that they’ve never talked about the future at all. He stopped mapping his out a long time ago. </p><p>He thinks of Monty and Harper, who are buzzing about becoming parents. He thinks of Raven and Shaw, six months in, but still smiling as they plan for dates riding out on Shaw’s motorcycle.</p><p>Lastly, painfully, he remembers his mother’s ring that he thought of every night before falling asleep next to Clarke in their bed. </p><p>Bellamy has a soft spot for children. He’s always wanted to have a few himself. That’s been a part of him, coded into his DNA for as long as adulthood at least. </p><p>Somewhere along the way, having kids has gone into the same space in the back of his mind as visiting Rome. A dream he had for himself that he didn’t look closely at in the light of day. Like maybe if he left it in the dark, covered in cobwebs, he could fool himself into not wanting it. </p><p>None of that excuses what he does when they run into Clarke at the grocery store. </p><p>Bellamy is aware it’s a shitty thing to do even as he’s doing it. The impulse is too strong to ignore. The wound is too fresh from their argument in Clarke’s apartment only days ago when the possibility of being a dad was ripped out from under him. </p><p>He spots Clarke in the cereal aisle. She doesn’t see him, reading the back of a box. </p><p>His anger comes back, burning in his lungs, and hurt throbs in his chest. He thinks of how easy it was for her to leave him and never look back. To forget everything they were, everything he thought they meant to each other. A family. A future. </p><p>Suddenly, Bellamy is consumed with the need to make her feel like he felt. She cast judgment on his relationship, his attempt to move on like she had any right to make him question himself. </p><p><em> Well Clarke, </em> he thinks, <em> this is me moving on.  </em></p><p>Bellamy slips away to find Echo. She’s grabbing a box of tampons for herself. When her attention is focused elsewhere, he discreetly places a box of pregnancy tests into the basket.  </p><p>They walk out of the aisle at the same time Clarke turns the corner. He couldn’t have planned it better himself. </p><p>Clarke comes to a halt, jerking her shopping cart before it bangs into them. She glances between the two of them, discomfort clear on her face before her expression smoothes out. </p><p>“Clarke,” Echo says flatly. “Hi.” </p><p>Bellamy reaches out to rub Echo’s hip. He can hear in her voice that she’s unhappy about this run-in with his ex. Clarke’s eyes track his hand’s movement before she glances back at Echo. </p><p>“Hi.” Clarke doesn’t look directly at him. “How are you?”  </p><p>Echo doesn’t bother with small talk. She arches a brow at the food piled into Clarke’s shopping cart. “I thought you were living alone.” </p><p>“I am. I mean, this is for me and my daughter.” </p><p>He hears his girlfriend’s sharp inhale. She doesn’t say anything then, but Bellamy knows they’re in for a conversation when they get home. Echo’s going to be pissed he didn’t tell her about Madi. It’s exactly the conversation he wanted to avoid. </p><p>Clarke adjusts the strap on her father’s watch, a nervous tic. “Um. I didn’t know you guys shopped here.” </p><p>“Our apartment is two blocks away,” Echo says cooly. </p><p>Clarke’s eyes dart somewhere behind them as if searching for an escape from this awkward encounter. Bellamy can’t let her leave just yet. </p><p>He purposefully shifts the basket on his arm, clearing his throat to draw her attention. The pink pregnancy box sits on top, clearly on display. Clarke meets his eyes for a startled moment and then her gaze drops to the basket. </p><p>“We’re here to pick up a few things,” Bellamy says, his voice even despite the way his pulse is beating in his throat. </p><p>He sees it the moment she notices the pregnancy tests. Her skin pales. She stares at the box like she’s paralyzed, the only movement being the slightest hitch in her breathing. </p><p>“See you around, Clarke,” Bellamy offers and takes Echo’s hand in his to steer her away, toward the registers. He doesn’t look back. </p><p>They’re unloading their items onto the conveyor belt. Echo grabs the First Response box before the cashier can scan it, a confused frown on her lips. “I don’t remember putting this in here.” </p><p>“Freudian slip?” He suggests. </p><p>Echo scoffs. “Don’t even joke.” </p><p>Bellamy takes the box out of her hands. “I’ll put it back. Meet you at the car.” </p><p>He brings it up later with his girlfriend. To say she’s not open to the idea is an understatement. Her amusement fades when Bellamy doesn’t crack a smile. </p><p>“Oh. You’re being serious.” </p><p>Bellamy huffs. “Why would I joke about that?” </p><p>Echo stares at him, eyes wider than normal. “Bellamy, we are not having a baby.” </p><p>“I’m not saying it has to happen right now,” he explains, feeling like he’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I just want to know how you feel about it happening. Eventually.” </p><p>She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her forehead puckering. “Where is this coming from?” </p><p>“Monty and Harper are trying for a baby. It got me thinking. We’ve never talked about this.” </p><p>“I hope it works out for them,” Echo says. “But that’s not something I want for myself.” </p><p>His breath stutters in his lungs. “Ever?” </p><p>Echo frowns, still regarding him oddly from across the table. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I haven’t thought of myself as wanting children. Is that going to be a problem?” </p><p>“Of course not,” Bellamy answers quickly. “That’s up to you. I was just curious.” </p><p>But it is a problem. The two of them do their best to pretend otherwise, but the subject makes itself known like an elephant in the middle of their apartment. It becomes a Thing they don’t talk about and makes it difficult to talk about anything else, either. </p><p>Bellamy is spending more time at the school, lingering longer than he has to. Echo starts edging around his mood like she’s waiting for the inevitable blow-up from him. Maybe it’s a coincidence or deliberate on both of their parts, but they stop having sex following that trip to the grocery store. </p><p>He promised her that nothing would change with them. But it feels like it already has. </p><p>Then, it’s Miller’s birthday that weekend and the whole group gets together for a good time at The Wanderer.</p><p>Emori knows the owner, so they’re able to have the bar to themselves for the night. Jackson takes over the karaoke machine and Harper is kicking all of their asses at darts. </p><p>“Your aim is impeccable, McIntyre,” Bellamy teases her. </p><p>Harper winks at him. “And don’t you forget it.” </p><p>He’s having a good time. Or trying to. It’s hard not to be on edge when he and his girlfriend are in the middle of a fight without actually fighting. Echo has spent the whole night sitting across the bar with Emori, far away from him. </p><p>His stomach is knotted with guilt. For pushing Echo away when she hasn’t done anything wrong. For the moment of cruelty at the grocery store, thrown in Clarke’s face. Bellamy nurses his beer slowly that night, brooding more than he’s drinking. </p><p>Monty comes over and slides into the seat across from him. He doesn’t say a word, but Bellamy can almost hear what he’s thinking anyway. </p><p>He sighs. “Are you judging me, Monty?” </p><p>His friend’s mouth lifts into a half-smile. “A little bit.” </p><p>“I know I need to make things right with Echo,” he admits. “I’m trying to figure some stuff out.” </p><p>Monty shakes his head at him, serious now. “That’s not why.” </p><p>Bellamy jerks his chin at him to go-ahead. “I’m fucking up spectacularly lately. You’re going to have to be more specific.” </p><p>“Tell me you’re not trying to get pregnant with Echo to get back at Clarke.” </p><p>He almost chokes on air. That is the last thing he expected to come out of Monty’s mouth. But as he gapes at his friend’s piercing, knowing eyes, a guilty flush crawls up his neck. </p><p>Bellamy turns away, clenching his jaw defensively. “That’s not...It wasn’t like that.” </p><p>“No?” Monty asks, skeptical. “I don’t think Echo realizes. She just mentioned your conversation to the girls. I know you, though.” </p><p>Bellamy holds onto his stubborn silence. Monty goes on. </p><p>“I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, Bellamy. But I think it will be a mistake.” </p><p>“Why?” Bellamy bites. “Because we’re not you and Harper?” </p><p>Monty’s lips flatten into a disappointed line. “No. Because you’re not thinking clearly. This isn’t about you and Echo wanting to become parents. You’re upset and you’re hurt. You have every right to feel that way. But this is a huge decision and I don’t want to see my friends do something they’re not ready for.” </p><p>He lets out a deep exhale. Monty makes it impossible to argue when he’s so reasonable. </p><p>“You don’t have to worry, okay?” Bellamy rubs his eyes tiredly. “Echo’s not interested in having kids. Maybe ever. We’re not trying to get pregnant.” </p><p>Monty studies him, sympathy chasing the disappointment off his face. “I’m sorry, Bellamy.” </p><p>He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It was just one conversation. We might revisit it another time, in the future.” </p><p>Bellamy is grateful when Miller joins them at the table. The birthday boy is loud and drunk, attempting to drag a reluctant Monty over for a round of karaoke. He’s let off the hook from any more uncomfortable discussions that night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Love you all!</p><p>Here's my <a href="http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. we had a promise made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! In honor of the S7 premiere, here's the next chapter! </p><p>Idk how I'm feeling about this season other than Missing Bellamy Blake Hours and needing a dose of Bellarke. Bless the writers in this fandom. I can't wait to see what canon spec fics they came up with to feed us. </p><p>In this chapter we have Team Cockroach friendship, some (light) Becho bashing, a flashback, and a long overdue talk about the past. I hope you guys enjoy! </p><p>Also, thank you all for supporting this fic. Much love! ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>“I need to drink.” </p><p>Murphy doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. He gives her his address and she says she’s on her way. They hang up.</p><p>It’s been three days since the run-in at the grocery store. Clarke hasn’t been able to think about anything else. Obsessing over the possibility of Bellamy having a baby with <em>her</em>. The sight of that pregnancy test is burned behind her eyelids and she needs alcohol to make it go away. </p><p>After her long shift ends at work, Clarke finds herself driving to John Murphy’s apartment. Madi is at a sleepover and she has no other plans that night. Drinking with a friend is better than drinking alone. Even if it is Murphy. </p><p>“Is it safe for me to be here?” Clarke asks, half-joking when the apartment door opens. “This neighborhood is sketchy.” </p><p>Murphy sneers at her. “Check your privilege, Princess. We can’t all live in fancy high-rise condos and drive a shiny Beamer.” </p><p>She gives him an affectionate punch in the arm and pushes her way inside. He shuts the door after her, not bothering to lock it. Just to make her more uneasy, probably. </p><p>“Worked my ass off in med school for that Beamer,” Clarke informs him, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>“Ah, your med degree, which was paid for by Dr. Abby Griffin,” Murphy retorts. </p><p>She scoffs. “Try all of my savings from working at the museum and selling my artwork. I graduated without debt. Dick.” </p><p>Murphy smirks at her snarky tone. “So glad to have you here.” He spreads his arms wide. “Welcome to my Crapartment. We have shitty beer and self-loathing.” </p><p>“Sounds like my kind of party,” Clarke mutters. “I’ll take a beer.” </p><p>She can tell by the glaze in Murphy’s blue eyes that he’s started without her. He’s already knocked back a few beers. She doesn’t mind though. This is what she came here for. </p><p>Clarke throws her jacket and her purse down before sitting on the lumpy couch.</p><p>Murphy joins her carrying a six-pack of beer and throws himself down beside her. They drink in silence, other than the faint rock music playing in the background. </p><p>She finishes the second beer before it finally spills out of her. “I ran into Bellamy and Echo at the store. They were buying a pregnancy test.” </p><p>It’s a relief to say it out loud to someone. Clarke has been stewing over it for days with no one to vent to. Her other friends are all friends with Echo and will be, at the least, <em> happy </em>about the news. Which makes her want to both cry and gag. </p><p>“Shiiit.” Murphy’s eyes widen before he snorts. “That’s just what this world needs. Little Bellamy’s running around.” </p><p>Her throat constricts at the thought of children with Bellamy’s freckles or sweet smile. Even drunk, Murphy can notice the pain that must be in her eyes. It’s a mirror of the lonely, broken look in his. </p><p>He nods at the beer can. “Keep drinking. You’ll feel numb.” </p><p>This is not one of her best ideas. She’s supposed to be a responsible adult, a doctor, a woman that has her shit together. Not the mess she actually <em>is </em>—drinking cheap beer and crying over her ex moving on. </p><p>Clarke drinks until the world softens around her. A buzz settles in her veins and the horrible ache in her chest dulls, becoming bearable. The beer loosens her tongue. </p><p>“I used to pretend he was Madi’s father,” she slurs. “I dreamt that I would come home and he would forgive me and we would be a happy family. How <em>stupid </em>is that? He loves her. He’s going to have a family with her. Not me.”  </p><p>Just when she thinks she might break down, Murphy pulls her off the couch to dance. He turns up the rock music until it’s blaring in their ears and she can feel the bass pounding under her ribs, rattling her teeth. </p><p>Murphy’s version of dancing is jumping around, head-banging, and punching the air. She stands there watching him. Clarke doesn’t feel like moving or doing anything other than feeling sorry for herself.</p><p>But then Murphy takes hold of her shoulders and tries to shake the sadness out of her. “No whining, no crying,” he tells her sternly. “Just dance it out!” </p><p>She starts jumping just so he’ll stop shaking her. The beer sloshes in her stomach from the movement. </p><p>“Don’t be a quitter, Griffin!” </p><p>“I’m not a quitter,” she snaps. </p><p>She pulls in deep breaths through her nose and the nausea passes. Murphy nods his approval when Clarke dances for real, shaking out her hair and swiveling her hips to the heavy beat. </p><p>The tightness leaves her chest and she’s able to breathe without feeling like she’s dying. They bounce around his living room and to an outsider, it might appear like they don’t have a care in the world. Their broken hearts are concealed under skin and bone. </p><p>“Do you remember those cheesy mixtapes you used to make Emori?” </p><p>Murphy narrows his gaze at her. “Those weren’t <em>cheesy</em>. They were fucking awesome because my taste in music is fucking awesome.” </p><p>He swats at her ponytail and this makes Clarke double over in a fit of giggles. </p><p>They keep dancing until the neighbor yells through the wall about the noise and threatens to call the cops. Murphy shouts back some colorful threats of his own and the exchange has Clarke collapsing on the floor, nearly crying from laughter. She has to catch her breath. </p><p>Murphy turns down the music so it’s slightly less deafening and flops onto his back next to her. </p><p>“I don’t think I can get up,” Clarke confesses in a whisper like it’s a secret. </p><p>He shrugs. “So don’t.” </p><p>The room is spinning over her head. She doesn’t fight it. Clarke is so tired from trying to keep herself afloat, feeling like she’s fighting against the current every day. It’s nice being able to lie here and do nothing. </p><p>Murphy nudges her arm. “What do you miss the most about him?” </p><p>A smirk curls her lips. “The sex.” </p><p>She says it just to mess with him and Murphy immediately starts gagging. </p><p>Clarke goes on about the many talents of Bellamy’s hands and how passionate he was as a lover. When she waxes poetic about his size is when Murphy finally clamps a hand over her mouth to shut her up. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Murphy cries over her laughter. “Nobody wants to hear that shit! Forget I asked.” </p><p>He removes his hand and when she settles down, she sighs heavily. </p><p>“I miss sex.” </p><p>Murphy regards her curiosity. “How long has it been for you?” </p><p>“Three and a half months.” </p><p>He whistles lowly. “Well, I’d offer to give you a hand, but…” He trails off, smirking. “Bellamy would kill me.” </p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes before she nudges his leg with her foot. “What do you miss the most about Emori?” </p><p>Murphy shrugs, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “Just <em>her</em>, I guess. Life’s always been shitty, but with her, it didn’t feel like it. She made everything better. I miss the stupid little stuff too. Like the way she <em>always </em>hogged the blanket. Bugged the fuck out of me before, but…” </p><p>“Yeah,” Clarke agrees softly. “Bellamy was always hot, so he used to keep our place freezing. We’d fight over the A/C constantly. He’d go behind my back and change it. Used to drive me crazy. Now I miss fighting with him over it.” </p><p>Murphy’s voice is unusually serious. “You came back for him, didn’t you?” </p><p>Clarke sighs. “Yeah.” </p><p>She had other reasons for moving back to Arkadia. Letting Madi get to know her family was a big one and her position at the hospital was an incentive for the move. But the truth is, she uprooted her life in Polis and ended her engagement because of Bellamy. </p><p>She couldn’t marry someone else. The only person she could imagine spending her life with and raising Madi with is <em>him</em>. Apparently, he doesn’t feel the same way. </p><p>Murphy turns his head, laying his cheek on the floor to glare at her. “Then what the fuck are doing, Griffin? Go get him.” </p><p>Clarke lets out a snort. “He doesn’t want me in his life. He said so himself. I ruined my chance to be with him a long time ago.” </p><p>“Fuck that noise,” Murphy exclaims. “You’re gonna give up just because Bellamy was a dick to you? Guess what? He’s always been a dick. You’re in love with him anyway.”</p><p>“Takes a dick to know a dick.” That’s her mature, eloquent response. </p><p>“You’re a dick too, Griffin. That’s why we get along.” </p><p>Clarke giggles. “Okay, we need to stop saying dick.” </p><p>“Seriously,” Murphy says. “Since when do you give up that easy? Of course, Bellamy isn’t going to just let you back in. He’s scared. Hell, he’s probably terrified of you walking out again.” </p><p>“I won’t,” she vows. “I’m never leaving him again.” </p><p>“Tell <em>him </em>that. Make him listen. Emori and I are a work in progress. But I’m gonna win her back. No matter what it takes. She’s worth it.” </p><p>Murphy has a better shot at getting Emori back than she does with Bellamy. At least his ex isn’t living with someone else and thinking about starting a family with them. Even if a small part of Bellamy still loves her, he’d never do that to his girlfriend. He’s too loyal. Too good. </p><p>“What about Echo?” </p><p>Murphy snorts loudly. “The rebound girl? You’re Clarke fucking Griffin. Who gives a shit about her?” </p><p>Clarke giggles again. “You’re terrible.” </p><p>It’s the weirdest pep talk she’s ever been given. They’re so drunk she doubts that either of them is going to remember this conversation.</p><p>But it’s comforting to know she isn’t alone in being the outcast from their old group and pining for her ex. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <b>－</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Seven Years Ago</b>
</p><p>
  <b>－</b>
</p><p>
  <em> In her dreams, the sins of the past are washed away, forgotten, as if they never existed. Her guilt is cutaway like the clipping of strings, leaving Clarke to soar through her memories. Free.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her mind unearths the memory of her first night with Bellamy in their townhouse. They were so proud, giddy at having their own home, feeling like real grown-ups. </em>
</p><p><em> She remembers loving the sight of her name signed on the lease next to his. </em>   <em> It was permanent and true, written right there in ink.  </em></p><p>
  <em> On the first night, Clarke was about to slide the key into the lock when she felt a pair of muscular arms circle her waist. His warmth and familiar scent enveloped her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy's lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Together."  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled. His hand folded over hers and together they turned the key. The door unlocked, swinging inward to grant them entrance to their new home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A tease was waiting on Clarke's tongue, but it was replaced with a gasp when her boyfriend suddenly scooped her up into his arms. Bellamy carried her over the threshold.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke tried to give him a displeased look. It was probably sappy though, reflecting how she really felt inside. </em>
</p><p><em> "You're supposed to do that when we're </em>married<em>," she informed him.  </em></p><p>
  <em> "I was just practicing," Bellamy said and winked before setting her down on her feet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They didn’t have any furniture yet. The townhouse was empty and dark around them, the air still stale from being closed-up for months since the last owners left.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But none of that mattered. Clarke loved every inch of the bare walls and the creak in the floors because it was her home with Bellamy. Perfect. Theirs.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They set themselves up for their first night, using some of the supplies they had brought with them. The space was lit by a few scattered wax candles.  </em>
</p><p><em> “The next time you sign your name</em>, <em> it will say Clarke Blake</em>,” <em> Bellamy teased her after they had finished eating.  </em></p><p>
  <em> They were sprawled on an old mattress dragged from the Blake house and covered with a quilt blanket, cartons of take-out food laid around them. They drank cheap champagne from plastic cups, toasting to their future.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "You're so sure of yourself," she teased him back. "Convinced we're going to be together when we're old and grey, huh?"  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Yeah, I am," he said firmly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At his words, Clarke hid her face against his warm, bare chest. He could likely feel the lines of her wide smile on his skin. Like that bottle of champagne, she was filled to the brim with bubbles of happiness.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Griffin-Blake,” she mumbled.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s that?” Bellamy hummed, massaging his fingers through her long hair. She could hear the grin in his voice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke lifted her face. “Griffin-Blake. I’m keeping my dad’s last name.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His brown eyes were beautifully soft, cast in a dim golden glow by the candles. Clarke drank in the fan of dark lashes on his freckled cheeks and the scar on his upper lip. She could draw his face from memory. It was as familiar as her own.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke had sketchbooks filled with imitations of his eyes, his hands, the curve of his smile. But nothing she drew could compare to the way Bellamy looked at her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She raised her hand to sweep the curls off his forehead and he pressed a kiss to her inner wrist.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmured.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clarke knew, with certainty as solid as she knew how to write with her left hand, that Bellamy would give her anything she asked of him. His last name, their dream home, and the stars in the sky.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He would do anything for her because he loved her. He loved her so deeply and selflessly in a way no one had ever loved her before or since then.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And at twenty-years-old on the first night in their apartment, Clarke still believed she deserved to be loved that way.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her cheek rested on his chest again, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. “Tell me a story, Bell.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Once upon a time,” he started, just a little bit cheeky, “there was a princess. Beautiful, stubborn and very clever. She had many gifts, but her best was being able to see the good in people.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You are such a cheeseball.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bellamy hushed her playfully. “She had her heart broken before by an evil jackass troll named Collins—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Bellamy!” Clarke laughed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He lightly pinched her hip. “Stop interrupting. We’re just getting to the good part.”  </em>
</p><p><em> “Meeting </em> you<em>, you mean?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Bellamy went on. “The Princess was special. You see, other people had been careless with her heart. But she still had hope that love was worth giving and being given in return.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The playful mood grew somber as Clarke got choked up. Her boyfriend had a way of both inspiring and devastating people with his words.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because of you,” she whispered through trembling lips. “You reminded me why I had hope.”  </em>
</p><p><em> Bellamy kissed her temple, lingering sweetly for a few moments. His voice wavered slightly when he continued. “The Princess saw something good in the janitor that mopped the floors at the hospital. He was invisible to everybody else, but not her. She </em> saw <em> him.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> His fingers were tender as they brushed over her cheekbone down to her jaw, his words low and reverent. “The Princess looked at him and made him feel worthy. She saved him when he felt hopeless. She was the light on his dark days. Because of her, he had something to look forward to—their future.”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She cupped his stubbled cheeks and drew Bellamy down into a consuming, slow-burning kiss. The nerves in her body electrified, recognizing the touch of her other half. His hands swept through her hair as hers raked down his back, over the scratches she had left behind earlier.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her heart felt big enough to fill every room in the building with love for this man.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you, Bellamy,” Clarke said against his lips. “I love you so much.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have no idea,” he said in between their hungry kisses, “what you mean to me.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Show me.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With a grin, Bellamy followed her command and rolled Clarke onto her back. Her legs parted readily to hook around his waist.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They talked a lot that night into the early hours of dawn about how they would decorate their little home and the dreams they still had for their bright, looming future.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But then, words were put on pause for deep moans and calls of each other’s names as they made love on a worn-out mattress.  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>－</b>
</p><p>Clarke wakes up in a cold sweat.</p><p>The taste of champagne and feeling Bellamy’s flushed, naked skin covering her body fades. She’s alone again. </p><p>She stares up at the ceiling for a long time with only the hollow ache in her chest for company. Her eyes are burning and dry. Sleep eludes her and the minutes tick by wastefully until she drags herself out of bed. </p><p>It’s 4 am when Clarke throws on a hoodie and slips into a pair of sneakers. She’s never been into running as a hobby, but she figures a walk in the fresh air might help.</p><p>After checking up on her daughter sound asleep in her bed, Clarke heads out and locks the door behind her. </p><p>Walking through the quiet streets of Arkadia gives her mind something else to focus on. Clarke has to find a way to put a lid on the memories before they drown her. </p><p>She does a loop around the neighborhood of her apartment building, but she doesn't feel tired enough, so she keeps going. Walks past the shopping center, the gym and her mother’s residential neighborhood, her feet carrying her forward. </p><p>It’s not that surprising when she ends up there, guided by her subconscious. Clarke can’t believe she lasted this long being back in town and <em>hasn’t </em>stopped there yet. </p><p>It looks the same, down to the blue door Bellamy had painted himself. Unchanged. How can her world be so different after six years, but their townhouse stands proud and perfect, just like in her memories? </p><p>Her throat is locked tight with nostalgia. She <em>loved </em>this place. This is the townhouse that she Bellamy bought together seven years ago, pooling their savings. </p><p>Abby wouldn’t let her touch the money her dad left for her. Not to <em>play house with her dropout boyfriend</em>, as she had scornfully put it. So Clarke had to dip into her savings of old babysitting money and working at the museum since she was sixteen. </p><p>They got a decent price on it because the place came unfurnished and Bellamy had to make a million repairs on it. Their little fixer-upper. No matter what they did, the roof still leaked when there was heavy rain and the shower only had two temperatures: freezing or scalding. </p><p>Clarke finds their bedroom window to look at. A fond smile quirks her lips as she recalls when Jasper accidentally broke the glass. Bellamy was <em>pissed</em>. </p><p>There are too many memories flooding her system. It hurts to remember. These were the best years of her life. She was young and carefree and completely, stupidly in love. </p><p>The night chill has seeped into her bones when Clarke turns away to leave.</p><p>She freezes when she spots the lone figure across the street, nearly blending into the shadows. His white headphones are visible in the dark and even with the hoodie, she can recognize that silhouette anywhere. </p><p>“Bellamy.” </p><p>What are the chances that he’d be on their old street at the same time of night as her? </p><p>Clarke still knows when Bellamy is in the room and it seems like he can sense her too. His head raises. Their eyes lock from across the empty street. </p><p>Bellamy crosses over to her, his hands buried in his hoodie’s pockets. Her pulse stutters with every step that brings him closer. </p><p>In a hot flash, she remembers her dream vividly: their naked bodies wrapped around each other like vines, taking him inside her, the echo of Bellamy’s blissful groan when he came. </p><p>Arousal clenches low in her stomach. Clarke stamps on those thoughts and tries to clear her expression. She’s pretty sure she’s violating some type of rule, remembering their sex life, especially when Bellamy is right in front of her. </p><p>His face is guarded, his mouth grimacing as he stops in front of her, pulling out his headphones. The night is almost eerily silent around them. </p><p>“Hi,” she says. “What are you doing here?” </p><p>“I should be asking <em>you </em>that. Your apartment is twenty blocks from here.” </p><p>“Obviously, I’m stalking you.” </p><p>Bellamy doesn’t even chuckle, much to her disappointment. He used to find her lame jokes funny. </p><p>“I couldn’t sleep,” Clarke admits, shrugging. “Went for a walk. A long walk.” </p><p>He nods his chin. “Yeah, me either.” </p><p>Silence drops like a heavy weight in between them. It seems like they’re both trying their hardest to avoid looking at the townhouse. </p><p>She has to wonder if his path walking by here is a coincidence. Does he visit their old house? Do the memories drown him in the same way? She can’t escape them when she’s dreaming or when she’s awake. </p><p>He must have sold the place at some point after she left. She doesn’t dare ask what he did with their things. </p><p>Clarke tilts her head, trying to catch his eye. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>Bellamy lets out a huff and shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that, Clarke. God knows I don’t deserve it.” </p><p>His expression is pulled tight with frustration. She doesn’t understand the source of it. If she had to guess, it’s about Echo. </p><p>Clarke swallows her discomfort. She doesn’t want to talk about her with him. Her last attempt was a disaster. But they’ve left too much go unsaid and it has festered between them into something dark and poisonous. </p><p>“Look, I’m sorry for what I said about Echo. I didn’t mean to criticize your relationship. It’s just surprising, given our history with each other. But you’re right—it’s not my place to judge. If you say she’s changed, then I believe you.”</p><p>Bellamy stares at her in disbelief. “Just like that?” </p><p>She shrugs, holding his gaze. “I want you to be happy, Bellamy. So yeah. Just like that.” </p><p>Bellamy’s eyes soften and that look seeps under her skin, warms her all the way through. It’s too close to the way he used to look at her when they were together—a private adoration that made her feel like a goddess in his eyes. </p><p>Hope drops its hook into her heart. Maybe something has changed. Maybe they can find a way to be friends. </p><p>Clarke takes a breath before she continues. She practiced what she’d say to him the next time they ran into each other, but her voice cracks and wavers in some places. </p><p>“This is probably overstepping, but...I noticed that you and Echo might be trying for a baby. I wanted to say...well, I hope that works out. I know how much you want to be a father.” </p><p>There. She got the words out. </p><p>They hurt like shards of glass slicing her throat, but she said them. </p><p>Bellamy is quiet for a long time. In the silence, Clarke worries that she pushed too far, too soon. </p><p>“Damn it,” he suddenly swears, making her jump. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Bellamy drags his hand across his face, frustration tautening his jaw and cheeks. When he drops his hand, however, she sees it isn’t directed at her. </p><p>His anger is pointed inward. Clarke recognizes the look on him when Bellamy is feeling guilty and punishing himself. </p><p>His brown eyes are brimmed with regret when they meet hers. “Echo and I aren’t trying to get pregnant. I made that up, Clarke.” </p><p>“I don’t understand,” she says slowly. </p><p>“I saw you at the store and I put the test there to make you think…” He trails off, grimacing at himself. “I did it to hurt you. I’m sorry.” </p><p>She doesn’t know what to say to that. His confession unleashes a storm of emotions in her chest. Shock. Confusion. Relief. And finally anger. </p><p>Her heart thuds in a quick, furious rhythm. All the pain she felt since seeing that pregnancy test was a lie. Even worse, it was a lie Bellamy cooked up to hurt her. </p><p>“Why would you do something like that?” She demands. </p><p>His expression twists with guilt. “I’m sorry,” Bellamy repeats. “I just...I was pissed. I was pissed off after I left your place and I didn’t expect hearing about Madi to screw with my head like that.” </p><p>“So you decided to screw with <em> my </em>head?” </p><p>His grimace deepens. “Yes. I don’t know. You talked about moving on in Polis and I guess I wanted to prove to you that I had too.” Bellamy shoves his fingers through his hair, shaking his head at himself. “I’m really sorry, Clarke. I wish I could take it back.” </p><p>Clarke blows out a frustrated breath. The thought of their ugliness makes her feel sick inside. What have they become? How did they end up here? </p><p>“Do you hate me that much?” Her voice isn’t the angry lash she wants it to be. The question comes out small and heartbroken. </p><p>Bellamy’s eyes widen. “<em> No</em>. I could never hate you, Clarke. I hate what you did. But not you.” </p><p>“I hate what you did too,” Clarke admits. “I didn’t tell you about Madi to hurt you. All I wanted was for the two of you to meet. For you to love her like I do.” </p><p>“She’s a great kid,” Bellamy says softly. The pain and wistfulness in his voice surprises her. “I want to get to know her too. Have I ruined that?” </p><p>“I won’t do that to her. Or to you.” </p><p>His relief is visible in the slump of his shoulders. It does something to cool the fiery anger kicking in her chest. She believes Bellamy’s regret at what he did. He gave in to an impulsive urge, born out of his own hurt. </p><p>And his desire to be in her daughter’s life is enough to earn her forgiveness, anyway. </p><p>“It’s okay, Bellamy,” she says. “I forgive you.” </p><p>Shock seems to stun Bellamy into a long silence. He stares at her, his mouth dropped open. “How can you say that? Clarke, I’ve been awful to you. I’ve been so angry and I took it too far—”</p><p>“I left you,” Clarke finally says, her voice catching. “I left <em>us </em>behind, our home we built together. I deserved for you to be angry with me.” </p><p>Tears blur her vision, her throat hot and scratchy from all of the locked-up emotions bleeding out of her. Bringing up their past is like poking an exposed nerve. </p><p>She can see a similar effect it’s having on Bellamy. The tears fill his eyes and drip down his cheeks. Everything is so raw between them like their pain is hours-old instead of years. Maybe there’s some truth in that you never get over your first love. </p><p>Because <em> Bellamy </em>was that for her. Not Finn. </p><p>What she had with Finn was an illusion. Smoke and mirrors. Being with Bellamy was when Clarke finally understood what it was like to be put first in someone’s heart, to be loved for who she was, flaws included, and not just someone else’s idea of her. </p><p>With Bellamy it was real. </p><p>“Not like this,” he disagrees hoarsely. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, Princess.” </p><p>Her breathing hitches. It’s about the warmth she feels from him again, beneath his guilt, rather than the nickname itself. It’s <em>there</em>, reigniting the frayed connection between them. </p><p>“I’m sorry too,” she murmurs. </p><p>Bellamy wipes at a tear on his cheek, not breaking away from their locked gaze. His eyes are pleading with her. “Just tell me why. Explain it to me. Please.”  </p><p>Somehow, they always end up back here. </p><p>But this is different. Almost as if they needed to be <em>here</em>, on the doorstep of their home, the memories of their life together strewn above them like the stars in the night sky. She remembers how they once burned brightly. </p><p>Now their defenses are lowered. The anger and resentment Bellamy wore like a suit of armor has been dropped away, revealing the raw hurt that lay beneath it. </p><p>And Clarke meets him there, white flag dragging in her tired grip, showing him the pieces of her heart that are broken in the same places as his. </p><p>“I gave you everything I had, Clarke. I know it wasn’t much, but,” he shrugs a bit helplessly as if to cover up the wet sheen in his eyes. “I loved you. And that wasn’t enough.” </p><p>Clarke inhales sharply. “Bellamy—”</p><p>“I tried to make sense of it, but I can’t. We were happy. I thought we wanted the same things. So I don’t understand what went wrong.” </p><p>“It wasn’t you,” she whispers. “I left because of Finn.” </p><p>He deserves the truth. He deserved to know six years ago. She can’t rewind time, but they can start here. </p><p>Clarke takes a shuddering breath. "I never told you this...I was the person he called the night he tried to kill himself. I found him, I—" She struggles to breathe, pain lacing through her at the memories in her head. </p><p>Bellamy takes a step toward her, his eyes flaring wide with concern. "<em>Clarke. </em>Breathe." </p><p>Somehow, air finds its way into her lungs. "I called the ambulance," she rasps. "I stayed with him overnight at the hospital. I was so scared, Bell. They said he might die." </p><p>The tears fall faster down her face as she goes on. "Finn was furious with me. He didn't want me there. He said I should have let him..." </p><p>Suddenly, Bellamy is inches away, his hands embracing her shoulders. "You did the right thing. You helped him." </p><p>Clarke swipes at her wet cheeks. "It felt like it was my fault. I told Raven about him cheating. I rejected him and broke his heart. I made him feel alone." </p><p>“It’s <em>not </em>your fault,” Bellamy says fiercely. </p><p>He tries to pull her into his arms, but she can't. She has to get all of this out. He has to understand. </p><p>"The guilt was unbearable," Clarke whispers. "I couldn't live with myself, Bellamy. How could I be happy with you when I caused him so much pain? What kind of monster did that make me?" </p><p>Understanding ignites in his gaze. "That's why you pulled away from me back then. I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong." </p><p>"Nothing," she insists. "You were <em>perfect</em>. It was me, okay? I had to leave. I couldn’t be here anymore." </p><p>Bellamy shakes his head, his brow knotted with confusion. His hands stroke up and down her arms. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" </p><p>Clarke sighs heavily. “I don’t know. Maybe because if I told you, you would have made me feel better like you always did. I didn’t think I deserved that. Not when Finn’s life was destroyed.” </p><p>Finally, she gives in and lets herself fall into Bellamy’s arms, lets his comfort wrap around her. She’s shaking from getting that story out. Her sobs are muffled into his warm chest. </p><p>She’s crying for herself, for them, for Finn. Out of relief that Bellamy has forgiven her. Out of mourning for what her running away has cost them. Time they can never get back. Trust that has been broken between them. </p><p>Bellamy hugs her tightly, one hand buried into her short hair. He holds her against him like he can fold her into his chest and protect her from herself. </p><p>Clarke melts into him. For the first time in six years, she is weightless while being awake. In Bellamy's arms, she can be vulnerable. </p><p>She's been trying so hard to stay strong in front of Madi. To keep breathing despite the weight of her guilt, despite not having his forgiveness. She's exhausted from carrying the past around wherever she goes. </p><p>There is relief in finally letting go. In Bellamy's embrace she can break apart without losing herself completely. He holds her through it all. </p><p>"I'm sorry," Bellamy murmurs into her hair. "I’ve got you, Clarke. I’ve got you." </p><p>He doesn't say anything else. But for now, it's enough. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! ❤️</p><p>*Credit to Grey's Anatomy for "Crapartment" lmao.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. i'll always remember us this way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there, fam! It's been a minute. I've missed writing for this story, you have no idea. </p><p>Sorry for the delay guys. This chapter slowed me down and I had little time to write with school these days. But it's finally here and I'm happy with the result. We have cute family bonding and jealous Bellamy (a personal fav of mine) 😉</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Bellamy has a free period right after lunch. Usually, he makes use of that time to do his lesson plans or catch up on grading. It’s a productive period. Except for that particular Tuesday, which he spends staring at his phone. </p><p>Clarke’s name glares at him above her phone number. His thumb hovers over the <em>call </em>button, but he can’t bring himself to press it. </p><p>He’s not angry with her for leaving. Not like he was before. After hearing about Finn, Bellamy understands what happened six years ago. He’s more frustrated with his ex-girlfriend for not talking to him and running when it could have been different. </p><p>He could have helped her heal. Helped shoulder the burden of Finn’s blame instead of Clarke having to carry that pain on her own. He hates thinking of how <em>alone </em>she must have felt, how she blamed herself for Finn falling apart. </p><p>If she had told him the truth back then…</p><p>If she hadn’t pulled away…</p><p>If he had been more attentive to what was wrong with her…</p><p>If he hadn’t let her leave…</p><p>With an annoyed grunt, Bellamy drops his phone into his desk’s drawer and slams it. </p><p>He’s losing his mind with the <em>what-ifs</em>. It’s a vicious cycle of frustration because there’s nothing he can do to change the past. And he doesn’t know where to go from here. </p><p>In his heart, all he wants is to talk to Clarke. The burden of his anger and hurt has been lessened since their last talk. Not completely gone, of course, but he feels lighter just knowing <em>he </em>wasn’t the reason for Clarke leaving him. </p><p>He didn’t ruin them. He didn’t unknowingly push her away. He wasn’t wrong about what they meant to each other. Clarke loved him, as deeply and intensely as he loved her. </p><p>It felt so good to hold her in his arms again. Sublime. Like coming home after a long trip and breathing in the scent of the place you missed. Nothing else could compare. </p><p>His phone buzzes in the drawer. </p><p>Bellamy’s pulse skips, his heart leaping into his throat. <em> Clarke, </em>he thinks, he hopes. </p><p>But when he glances at the screen, it’s a text message from Miller. A random question about a show they both watch. </p><p>He hasn’t heard from her since they ran into each other on his run. Disappointment clenches his gut every time it’s not her on his phone. She’s probably giving him space again, letting him decide whey they stand now. But he has no idea. </p><p>They’re still exes with a complicated history. They’re different people than they both knew six years ago. Bellamy doesn’t know where Clarke fits into his life and the person he is now. </p><p>A knock sounds on the door to his classroom. Before he can say anything, the door creaks open and Madi Griffin is peering at him with wide blue eyes. </p><p>Bellamy’s mouth pulls into an involuntary smile. “Hi, Madi.” </p><p>She grins at him. “Hi, Bellamy!” </p><p>Clarke’s daughter lets herself into his classroom with the bravado of an uncontested six-year-old. She carries the purple bookbag he recognizes from the other week. </p><p>Bellamy leans back in his chair, amused. He cocks an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” </p><p>Madi’s eyes gleam wickedly and Bellamy realizes then that Clarke is going to have a hellraiser on her hands in a few years. </p><p>“We were at recess,” she explains. “I snuck away because I have to talk to you.” </p><p>No doubt him being a friend of her mother makes Madi think she can get away with shit like that. And she’s right. It’s not like he’s going to rat her out to her teacher. </p><p>“This sounds important.” </p><p>Madi nods. “It is.” </p><p>Bellamy smirks. “Well, let’s hear it. Because as soon as we’re done talking, I’m sending you back to class, Madi.” </p><p>She doesn’t seem too bothered by his threat. Apparently, she’s a girl on a mission and her determination reminds him painfully of Clarke. </p><p>“You have to forgive her,” Madi demands. </p><p>His eyes widen. “What are you talking about?” </p><p>“My mom,” she says impatiently. “She says you’re mad at her. But you can’t stay mad forever, Bellamy. I know she’s sorry and she misses you.” </p><p>Her words take a minute to sink in through the daze of shock. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation with Clarke’s daughter. Bellamy’s mouth opens and closes a few times. He doesn’t know what to say. </p><p>“How…” he starts slowly. “How do you know she misses me?” </p><p>God. That’s not what he should be saying, but it’s what falls off his tongue. He <em>should </em>be telling Madi that he has forgiven Clarke. He’s too curious to hear what the girl has to share. </p><p>“Because of the box,” Madi tells him like it should be obvious. </p><p>“The box?” </p><p>“Mom keeps it in the closet. She takes the box out when she thinks I’m asleep and reads the notes in it. Notes from <em>you</em>. There’s other stuff in there too. Sometimes she cries when she opens the box.” </p><p>Madi gives him a dark look here, like he’s personally responsible for her mom’s sadness. Yeah, lately he is. </p><p>Bellamy doesn’t need to ask about the notes. He knows exactly what she’s talking about. He remembers writing them, pinning them to the bathroom mirror for Clarke to find on the mornings she woke up without him. Stupid little notes to make her smile. </p><p>His mouth is bone-dry then. “She cries over it?” He asks quietly. </p><p>Madi nods again, frowning at him. </p><p>Bellamy rubs a hand across his eyes, bumping into his glasses. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t mean to make your mom cry, Madi.” </p><p>“You can make it better,” she insists. “You can forgive her and she won’t be sad anymore.” </p><p>He pushes up from his chair, walking around the desk to reach Madi. Bellamy crouches down in front of her and takes Madi’s small hand in his. </p><p>“Listen to me, Madi. I’m not upset with your mom anymore, okay? We worked it out. You don’t have to worry about that.” </p><p>The little girl squints at him in disbelief. “Then why won’t she tell me the stories anymore?” </p><p>“What stories?” </p><p>“The stories about <em>you</em>,” she huffs. “She used to tell me every night when we lived in Polis.” Madi flashes him a toothy grin. “My favorite is when you made the magic butterflies for Aunty O!”  </p><p>Aunty O. <em> Octavia</em>. </p><p>After a moment, he pulls up the memory. O was five then and bored of being cooped up inside their house. Money was especially tight and Bellamy had to get creative with entertaining her using stuff around the house. </p><p>He used some mason jars, construction paper for the butterfly shapes, and old glowsticks. He turned their living room into a glowing forest. Bellamy remembers finding glitter on his body for <em>days </em>afterward. But it was worth it, seeing O’s delight over the sparkly butterflies. </p><p>Clarke told her daughter that story. <em>Stories</em>, apparently, about him. </p><p>Bellamy swears the room sways around him. He has to ground himself. The shock threatens to swallow him up. From the way Madi gazes up at him, it sounds like he’s some kind of hero in Clarke’s stories about him. </p><p>She kept them alive in her memory and her heart even with miles of distance between them.  </p><p>He was wrong. Completely wrong. Clarke didn’t stop caring once she left and never looked back. A part of her never let him go. </p><p>Once the shock fades, Bellamy has to fight himself. He has the pressing need to find Clarke and talk about these revelations. <em> Now</em>. In person when he can look into her eyes. </p><p>He has to rein himself in. It’s the middle of the school day. He has classes to teach and Clarke is likely at work at the hospital. This will have to wait until later. Like when his head stops spinning. </p><p>Bellamy takes a deep breath before focusing on Madi. “How about I come over tonight? Your mom and I can talk more about all of this.” </p><p>Madi lights up at his offer. It pleases her enough that she agrees to walk with him back to her class across the school’s campus. Bellamy rattles off an excuse to her teacher about where she’s been and returns to his room in a daze. </p><p>He only has a few minutes left in his free period. Bellamy calls Clarke and gets her voicemail, as expected. He leaves her a message about coming over for dinner and hopes she accepts. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There are butterflies swirling in his stomach as he rides the elevator. <em> How fitting. </em>Bellamy snorts to himself. </p><p>He hasn’t felt this nervous since picking up Clarke for their first date. </p><p>It’s <em>not </em>a date, of course. Far from it. That would be inappropriate. He’s with Echo. This is much closer to old friends catching up. Except for the fact they’re exes. </p><p>Bellamy pushes down on the rise of guilt he feels. He has no reason to feel like he’s doing something wrong. Echo knows he’s going over to visit Clarke and her daughter. She seemed fine with it. His girlfriend isn’t the jealous type. </p><p>His emotions are all over the place. Bellamy clutches the mason jar to his side as he exits the elevator and knocks on the apartment door. </p><p>He has to wait a minute for the door to swing open. It grants him just enough time to pull himself together. </p><p>And there Clarke is. Bellamy can’t help but notice how pretty she looks. Her navy sweater makes her blue eyes even more stunning. </p><p>Clarke greets him with a soft smile. “Hey. Come in.” </p><p>He follows her into the apartment, taking in the bright colors and coziness for the second time. She has something cooking on the stove. Just like old times, she’s also got music playing in the background while she cooks. Tegan and Sara, he guesses. </p><p>Clarke turns back to him, nodding at the glass jar. “What do you have there?” </p><p>“Uh,” Bellamy chuckles awkwardly. “It’s for Madi. She really liked the story about me and O as kids.” </p><p>He lifts the jar for her to see the purple butterflies inside. This time he used string lights to give the jar a glowing effect. </p><p>Clarke stares at the jar, recognition clicking behind her eyes. She swallows before giving him a faint smile. “She’s going to love it. And it will make a perfect nightlight.” </p><p>He senses some unease on Clarke’s part. They’re out of sync these days and Bellamy isn’t sure if he should bring it up. Before he can decide, however, Madi comes sprinting into the room with excitement. </p><p>“Bellamy!” Madi cries. </p><p>Her joy at seeing just him melts him inside. He misses when O was that small and innocent. When he used to be her big brother, larger than life. </p><p>“Hey, Madi. I brought this for you.” </p><p>He hands her the jar and watches as Madi’s blue eyes gleam. “Wow! I love butterflies. Look, Mom!” </p><p>Clarke nods, smiling at her daughter’s happiness. “I see that. What do we say to Bellamy?” </p><p>“Thank you, Bellamy!” </p><p>“You’re welcome, Madi.” </p><p>She rushes off to take the jar to her room, her feet pattering on the wood floors. </p><p>Bellamy joins Clarke in the kitchen where she’s started peeling potatoes, humming under her breath. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. The sight is so domestic that his chest aches. </p><p>He clears his throat. “Can I help with anything?” </p><p>Clarke meets his eye, as if gauging to see if he means it. Bellamy is already at the sink washing his hands. He waits for her instruction. </p><p>“Sure,” she says. “You’ve always been better at grilling than me. You can put the steaks on.” </p><p>Bellamy scoffs. “Taking meat off the grill before it burns isn’t a skill to brag about.” </p><p>Clarke gives him a familiar look. Half-fond and half-exasperated. He doesn’t know what he’s done to earn getting that look from her, but he’s not complaining. Inside, he’s thrilled they can banter again. All he wants is for them to be in a good place. </p><p>He takes the steaks out to the grill Clarke has on the terrace. Her place is pretty great. He has a nice view of the night sky and their hometown below him while he flips the meat, getting Clarke’s as dark as she likes it. </p><p>When he comes back in, Clarke has opened a bottle of red wine. He accepts a glass from her. The air between them is tentative, stepping lightly as they try to find safe ground to tread on. </p><p>Bellamy tells her about his students as she finishes the sides. They trade stories about work. It’s a step above small talk, but he still enjoys talking to her. He wants to know everything about her life and once they get started, the conversation flows. </p><p>Something clicks into place, a piece of him that was missing for six years. She was his favorite person to talk to before. He has his person back.</p><p>Clarke calls Madi out when dinner is ready. They set up their food on the round kitchen table. The meal is delicious and Bellamy gets to watch Clarke help Madi cut her steak into small bites. It’s almost like something out of his dreams. </p><p>He has to keep his heart in check all night. He’s there to be Clarke’s friend. He’s not any different to Madi than Uncle Monty or Uncle Murphy. Certainly not her pseudo-father. </p><p>After dinner Madi demands they watch a movie together. Clarke gives him an apologetic look over her head. As if there’s anywhere else he’d rather be. </p><p>Madi gives him the honor of picking the movie, so he selects <em> Tangled. </em></p><p>The three of them pile onto the sofa and Bellamy fails to contain his amusement as Madi sings along off-key to every song. Then Madi points out his resemblance to Flynn Rider. </p><p>Bellamy scoffs in disagreement. “The thief? Really kid?” He pokes her playfully in the tummy. “What about Prince Eric? Or Hercules?” </p><p>“Nope!” Madi replies, giggling at his pokes. “You’re <em> Eugene </em>.” </p><p>Clarke is snickering to herself until her daughter states that makes <em>her </em> Rapunzel. Their physical resemblance is obvious and Clarke is also an artist. </p><p>“She’s got you there, <em> Princess</em>,” Bellamy teases. </p><p>Clarke sticks her tongue out at him and he laughs until Madi shushes him. </p><p>Despite her yawning and rubbing her eyes, Madi insists that she’s not tired when the movie ends. Bellamy offers to read her a bedtime story and that does the trick of getting Madi to scramble into her room. </p><p>Clarke stops him, a worried wrinkle in between her brows. “You don’t have to do that, Bellamy. It’s getting late. If you need to go—”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Bellamy reassures her. “I don’t mind.” </p><p>Clarke ducks into Madi’s bedroom to help her get ready for bed. He hears her hassling Madi over brushing her teeth. While they’re busy, Bellamy checks his phone and texts Echo that he’s going to stay a while longer. </p><p>He’s happy to tuck Madi in. And he’s not leaving until he talks to Clarke about the box. </p><p>Once Madi is changed into her pajamas and settled under the covers, Bellamy heads in. She has a story picked out for him.</p><p>He takes a seat on the bed and starts to read. Madi’s delight is obvious when he does the voices for each character. </p><p>The poor thing struggles to keep her eyes open until the end. She’s out like a light before he reaches the last page. </p><p>Clarke comes over from her post by the door. She had stood back, watching quietly while Bellamy read out loud. Now she bends down to lay a kiss goodnight on her daughter’s head. </p><p>“That was a lot of excitement for her,” Clarke notes as they slip out of Madi’s bedroom. “I’m not surprised she crashed.” </p><p>They return to the kitchen where Clarke starts rinsing a wine glass in the sink. He had teased her about leaving the dirty dishes out while they watched the movie. Clarke liked to clean up as soon as she swallowed her last bite of food. </p><p>She says nothing when Bellamy helps her clear the table and dries the dishes for her. The silence between them is comfortable for once. Any awkwardness has thawed throughout the evening. Together, they finish in what seems like no time at all. </p><p>“Thank you,” Clarke says, leaning back against the counter. “For staying and being so good with Madi. That means a lot to me.” </p><p>“Of course,” Bellamy murmurs. </p><p>She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. He picks up on the signs of her nervousness. Clarke doesn’t know where to go from here any more than he does. </p><p>“I’m glad you called,” she adds softly. “I wasn’t sure…” </p><p>She trails off and he nods, picking up where she leaves off. “I wanted to talk to you. Madi told me about the stories. And the box in your closet.” </p><p>Clarke’s eyes widen. “When did she…” She pauses, shaking her head to dismiss the thought. “The box?” </p><p>Bellamy steps closer without realizing it. “Where you keep the notes I wrote to you.” He studies her expression, the nervous flutter of her eyelids. “What else is in that box, Clarke?” </p><p>She turns away from him and he feels her slipping away, trying to shut him out again. Her shoulders hunch together. She seems almost <em>afraid </em>of his reaction and god, that hurts. Bellamy can’t say he doesn’t deserve it though. </p><p>“Clarke, please,” he whispers. “I want to know. You can tell me.” </p><p>Her head bows, avoiding his pressing gaze. He thinks she’s going to say no. It would be her right. That box is clearly private and it isn’t his business. </p><p>Bellamy hears his heart thudding in his ears as he waits. </p><p>Finally, Clarke turns and walks away. She disappears down the long hallway. A door creaks open in another room. A minute later she’s carrying a cardboard box over to him. </p><p>Anticipation inflates in his chest. She can’t understand what this means to him. To know she held on to their past relationship just like he did. </p><p>Clarke sets the box onto the round table. Her hands are trembling. Bellamy has to catch her eye, giving her a warm, grateful look. </p><p>“Thank you,” he breathes. </p><p>She steps away from the table, letting him get closer to open the box. Bellamy gives her shoulder a soft squeeze as he passes her. Then he works open the flaps to peer inside. </p><p>The smell of the jasmine perfume he gave her hits him when he opens the box. With it comes a strong wave of nostalgia. </p><p>She kept everything. Every momento from their relationship, preserved in this box like an irreplaceable relic. There isn’t a speck of dust in the box. Each item, from the handwritten notes to his old T-shirt, has been carefully folded and put away. </p><p>Carefully, Bellamy digs out the blue ribbon from the corsage. A smile curls his lips. “I can’t believe you kept this.” </p><p>Clarke’s arms are crossed over her chest. She doesn’t quite meet his eye when she admits, “It was my something blue.” </p><p>Bellamy pauses rooting through the box. “Hmm?” </p><p>“For when...well, <em> if </em> we got married.” </p><p>That snags his attention. Bellamy’s head snaps up to stare at her. </p><p>The intensity of his look has Clarke shifting her weight, seeming self-conscious. “I was saving it just in case. You know, something borrowed and something blue for our wedding day.” </p><p>Bellamy’s eyes close, his brows creasing. She can’t say shit like that to him. It’s too much. More than he knows what to do with. </p><p>They joked and teased about getting married in the past. He wasn’t sure if Clarke took him seriously when he called her his future wife. They both knew they were committed to each other, but he hadn’t proposed. </p><p>Not yet. He didn’t get the chance to give her his mother’s ring. </p><p>“You would have said yes,” Bellamy whispers, almost inaudible. </p><p>But Clarke hears him. “Of course I would have said yes if you proposed, Bell.” </p><p>He opens his eyes and their gazes lock from across the kitchen. Suddenly, the underlying tension that lurked between them all night has burst through the surface, smothering the air. </p><p>He knows they’re both thinking about it—what could have been. </p><p>They could be married right now. In a parallel universe, they both made different choices. Maybe Bellamy convinced her to stay here. Maybe Clarke told him the truth sooner. In another life, they never lost each other. </p><p>Bellamy can see it all in his mind’s eye, can feel the pain of the possibility sharp in his lungs. Every night could be like this where they come home to each other, talk about their days. They tuck their daughter into bed and tell her stories together. He gets to fall asleep holding Clarke in his arms. </p><p>He rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to scrub away the images. Blindly, he reaches for another item in the box and pulls out a soft, bulky object. </p><p>Bellamy lets out a startled laugh. “Holy shit. Is this…?” </p><p>Clarke sees the plush panda toy clutched in his hand and laughs as well. The tension melts out of the kitchen when they’re able to focus on the stuffed animal. </p><p>“Señor Bamboo,” she confirms, her nose wrinkling adorably at the name of the panda. The silly name they had picked out together. </p><p>Bellamy shakes his head as he strokes the panda’s fur. He remembers the night he won the toy for Clarke.</p><p>It started with his girl craving pancakes late that night, so they went out to a 24-hour diner that still served breakfast. </p><p>Clarke was still living with her mom at the time and Abby didn’t approve of their relationship, considering their age difference. They stole as much time together as they could that first year and neither of them wanted the night to end, so they went to a few places after the diner, stretching out their date. </p><p>The car wash where they made out like teenagers while water pounded on the dirt-streaked windows. The grocery store where Clarke filled his cart with all the things <em>she </em>liked for him to have at his place. And finally, the arcade where he was skilled at skee ball and won tickets to buy her the stuffed panda. </p><p>“That was a fun night.” </p><p>“An <em>amazing </em>night,” Bellamy adds with a note of nostalgia in his voice. </p><p>Clarke giggles suddenly. “Remember when the gas station clerk yelled at us to leave the car wash?” </p><p>He smirks. He had been preoccupied with his hand inside Clarke’s bra, uncaring that their time was up. “How could I forget?” </p><p>Bellamy stays even longer than he means to, the hour creeping past 1 and then 2 am. Once he and Clarke start reminiscing, they get caught up in the memories. Years of history connecting them like a thread that has worn with time, but that tie can’t be broken. </p><p>Clarke hides another yawn behind her hand, her eyes red and tired. </p><p>Bellamy sighs. “It’s late. I should get going.” </p><p>Her pursed lips mirror his disappointment, but they both know he’s right. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.” </p><p>They’re only a few feet from the front door. Neither of them points this out, intending to prolong the end of this evening for as long as possible. With her, it never feels like <em>enough</em>. </p><p>Bellamy opens the door and turns back to her over the threshold. His words get lost in his throat when Clarke leans up on her toes to hug him, sliding her arms around his neck. </p><p>He hugs her tightly, his eyes closing in quiet wonder. She fits as perfectly in his arms as she did ten years ago, that night in her parents’ driveway. A part of him never wants to let her go. </p><p>“Goodnight, Princess.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/><br/>His mouth has been curled up in the corners since they drove away from the apartment. Echo eyes him warily as they walk through the parking lot. </p><p>“You’re in a good mood.” </p><p>Bellamy shrugs, reaching out to hold the door open for her. “Just excited to see everyone.” </p><p>Their group is meeting up for dinner at a local restaurant. It’s rare that all of their friends can line up their schedules for more than a drink after work. They reserve that for special occasions. This time Monty and Harper asked in advance for everyone to get together. </p><p>He spots the back of Clarke’s blonde waves first. Bellamy’s lips tug into a full grin. He’s looking forward to talking with Clarke the most.</p><p>It feels <em>right </em>to have the air cleared between them and he doesn’t want the other night at her place to be just a fluke. Complicated or not, Bellamy wants her in his life. </p><p>“Hey,” Bellamy greets, approaching the long table. </p><p>Clarke turns at his voice and her blue eyes light up in similar excitement. “Hey!” Her gaze slides to Echo coming up behind him. “Echo, hi.” </p><p>Bellamy takes the empty chair next to her, which earns him a sly smile from Harper. She and Monty are the only other ones there, so they’re waiting for the others to arrive as they order drinks and catch up. </p><p>Clarke fills him in on her day and what he’s missed since their dinner a few nights ago.</p><p>“Madi loves the butterfly light,” she tells him. “She has me put it on every night before bed.” </p><p>Happiness swells in Bellamy’s chest. He likes having a small part in Clarke’s routine with her daughter. He probably likes it a little too much, for some reason wanting to stand out from being like any other friend in Clarke's life. </p><p>Echo leans in from his other side. “What’s this?” </p><p>Clarke’s attention switches to her phone, so it falls on him to explain. He doesn’t care to rehash the whole story, particularly because his sister is still a sore spot with Echo. Bellamy rambles a brief version that appeases his girlfriend’s curiosity. </p><p>Raven and Shaw are next to arrive, followed by Emori and then Miller with Jackson until their table is full. The conversation flows from one end to the other as they pick at appetizers. It’s not a perfect night out, as Emori and Murphy still need to sit far from each other to avoid a scene. </p><p>Bellamy also picks up on the tension lingering between Clarke and Raven. Their issues clearly aren’t figured out as Raven acts cold and even deliberately excludes Clarke from her conversation with Echo when his ex-girlfriend tries to join in. </p><p>Clarke keeps her cool composure, as always, but Bellamy can read the hurt underneath. It makes his blood burn, seeing Raven treating her like that. Hypocritical of him, considering how he’s acted with Clarke in the recent past. </p><p>Bellamy can’t leave it alone. Subtly, he squeezes Clarke’s shoulder in comfort and leans in to murmur, “She’ll come around.” </p><p>Clarke scoffs, allowing her scorn to peek through. “Doubtful. And I give up, honestly. I don’t know what she wants from me.” </p><p>“No, you won’t,” he disagrees. “You never give up on the people you care about. Even when they don’t deserve your kindness.” </p><p>Her eyes catch his and he knows she’s thinking about what he said to her in response that she wouldn’t give up on him. </p><p>
  <em>You already did. </em>
</p><p>He said it cruelly, in anger. “I was wrong,” Bellamy says. “You don’t give up, Clarke.” </p><p>She gives him a small, grateful smile. He feels the damage healing between them slowly, stitch by stitch. </p><p>“Explain what happened with you and Finn,” he continues. “Maybe she’ll understand.” </p><p>Clarke nods, taking in his advice and he lets the subject drop. </p><p>Despite the strain in the air, Shaw leans over from his girlfriend's side to talk to Clarke. </p><p>"Clarke Griffin," he says slowly. "Aren't you friends with Wells Jaha?"</p><p>Clarke straightens up. “Yeah? We’ve been friends since we were kids. How do you know Wells?” </p><p>“We trained together in Basic,” Shaw explains, “And served in the Air Force up until last year. He talks about you a lot.” </p><p>A smile blooms on Clarke's lips. “Nothing bad, I hope,” she jokes. “We talk every month. I started writing to him after he enlisted because I missed him like crazy.” </p><p>Bellamy listens in on their conversation once they start talking about Wells. He hasn't had the pleasure of meeting Clarke's childhood friend, but he's just relieved that Clarke not longer seems upset because of Raven's cold shoulder. </p><p>Shaw shares some interesting stories about being in the Air Force with Wells. This somehow morphs into Shaw showing Clarke pictures on his phone of his motorcycle, bragging about his baby. </p><p>Clarke sighs in admiration. "I always wanted to ride one." She nudges Bellamy's shoulder playfully. "<em>You</em> threatened to break up with me if I got a bike, remember?"  </p><p>Shaw gives Bellamy an appalled look that makes his cheeks warm. He's quick to offer an explanation. </p><p>"I wasn't being <em>serious,</em>" he defends himself, turning to glare at Clarke. "Those things are dangerous! You could crack your skull open, Clarke." </p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes as him, much like she did when she was eighteen. "You worry too much, old man." </p><p>Bellamy reaches out to pinch her side, smiling despite himself at her sass. Clarke swats his hand away. </p><p>He accidentally catches Murphy's eye then. His friend is smirking at their exchange with a smugness that rubs Bellamy the wrong way. </p><p>His face flushes for a new reason. Guilt fills his chest. Echo is sitting next to him and here he is, basically flirting with his ex-girlfriend. What the hell is he doing? </p><p>He has to stop. Bellamy is determined that he can be Clarke's friend and a faithful boyfriend. He just needs to keep a respectable distance with Clarke, not get too familiar. </p><p>Once they all have their meals in front of them, Monty and Harper get the table’s attention and their group falls silent. </p><p>“So,” Harper starts with a grin. “I bet you’re all wondering why we invited you here tonight.” </p><p>“Not really,” Murphy drawls. “You’re knocked up, right?” </p><p>“Murphy!” Several voices hiss at once. </p><p>Surprisingly, Harper laughs at the comment as she and Monty share a meaningful glance before she nods at her husband. </p><p>Monty turns back to them, his eyes bright with joy. “Well, he’s right. Harper and I are expecting our first child.” </p><p>Everyone gasps and takes turns to offer their congratulations to the couple. Their voices grow loud and the mood bursting with excitement about their news. Both of them are practically glowing as Harper tells the story of their trip to the doctor’s office. </p><p>Bellamy can’t remember the last time he felt this content, surrounded by the overlapping voices of his family. The familiar sounds of Monty and Murphy bickering, Harper brainstorming baby names with Clarke, and Emori’s laugh reach his ears. </p><p>“I like the name Jordan,” Bellamy agrees with Harper’s top pick before his girlfriend tugs at his sleeve. </p><p>Echo wants to split a dessert with him. He leans in to look at the menu choices and feels Clarke shift away from him almost imperceptibly. Her warmth at his other side disappears. </p><p>Echo places their order for a key lime pie and Bellamy turns back, finding the conversation has moved on. Harper is talking to Miller across the table. Clarke’s attention is on her phone again. </p><p>He’s not trying to snoop. Really, he’s not. Bellamy happens to glance at her phone screen when it lights up, lying face-up on the table. And that’s when he sees the incoming text messages. </p><p><em>Lexa. </em>Both of them are from her. </p><p>Bellamy’s jaw clenches. Damn it. He doesn’t want to care. But the sight of her name charges his veins with bright red irritation.</p><p>They ended things. Why is Clarke still talking to her ex-fiancée? </p><p>Clarke’s fingers tap at the screen, typing out a quick response. A few moments later the phone buzzes again. She smiles at the reply. </p><p>Bellamy reaches for his drink, hoping the beverage will cool his temper. He needs to keep his mouth shut. This isn’t his business and he has no right to be upset. He and Clarke are trying to be friends too. </p><p>“So,” he says gruffly, “you guys are still talking?” </p><p>The words blurt from him without his permission. </p><p>Clarke jumps, her eyes snapping up to his face. She looks caught, when <em>he </em>is the one that was sneaking glances at her phone. </p><p>Bellamy doesn’t feel too bad about it. Not enough to apologize or take the question back. He waits, holding her gaze, his jaw still tight. </p><p>“You mean Lexa?” Clarke asks, obviously stalling the subject. He nods. “Yeah. We text each other sometimes.” </p><p>As if on cue, her phone vibrates on the table with another message. </p><p>“Huh,” he mutters. </p><p>Her eyes narrow at him. “What?” </p><p>Bellamy attempts a casual shrug. “I just think it’s odd. You broke off your engagement and you’re still on good terms. How can that work?” </p><p>Clarke’s mouth parts and closes, thinking over a response. He’s waiting to hear her explanation of the situation when the eavesdroppers of their group chime in. </p><p>“It doesn’t,” Emori says bluntly. “Exes can’t be friends.” She aims an unsubtle glare at Murphy then. </p><p>Jackson looks at Clarke curiously. “You still talk to your ex-fiancée?” </p><p>Clarke tilts her chin up, a defensive shape stiffening her shoulders when she realizes their friends are staring at her. “Yes. Not all the time, but we stay in contact.” </p><p>Miller snorts. “That’s bullshit. The only reason exes ‘stay friends’ is because someone isn’t over the other person. Or you guys were never in love in the first place.” </p><p>Clarke’s gaze drops to her plate and Bellamy feels her response like a punch to his gut. She isn’t over Lexa. That’s why they’re texting each other all night and Clarke has become so quiet. </p><p>“I agree,” Jackson adds. “You can’t be friends with someone you were in love with.” </p><p>“Bellamy and Clarke seem to be making it work,” Murphy notes, smirking in anticipation to see them squirm. </p><p>Bellamy isn’t paying attention to the conversation anymore. Vaguely, he registers throwing a glare in Murphy’s direction for stirring up shit, but his thoughts are elsewhere.</p><p>He regrets bringing up Lexa at all. Clarke is still quiet as they clear their dessert plates and he knows it’s his fault for making her uncomfortable. </p><p>Later, when they’re all saying goodnight in the parking lot, Bellamy seeks Clarke out. He lays a hand on her arm, grimacing in apology. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.” </p><p>Clarke’s eyes widen. “No, Bellamy. It’s okay—</p><p>He forces a smile that he hopes is encouraging, despite how painful it feels at the moment. “You deserve to be happy, Clarke. I hope you and Lexa can figure it out.” </p><p>Her face falls, hurt lining the furrow of her brows. She must be truly broken up over Lexa. He knows the feeling. </p><p>When she speaks, her voice is quiet and nearly flat. “Thanks.” </p><p>He hugs her goodbye, a quick one-arm embrace this time to not let himself get carried away. Echo is waiting for him a few feet away, reaching out to take his hand and end the night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Can't wait to hear your thoughts. Thanks for sticking with me ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. i'm just trying to keep these shadows out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi babes! Every time I receive a comment for this fic, my heart melts. Your support means everything. </p><p>This chapter did not come easy. But I'm happy with how it came out and I hope you are too. </p><p>We have a Princess Mechanic talk finally and some (totally not platonic) Bellarke bonding. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>She takes Bellamy’s advice. Despite her apprehension, Clarke makes another attempt to reach out to Raven, this time armed with the full truth. Reconciling with Bellamy and having him back in her life—in Madi’s life too—seems to invigorate her.</p><p>She’s not taking no for an answer. Clarke makes it known in her voicemail to Raven that it’s time for them to really talk. Considering their long history, Raven can at least hear her out.</p><p>Maybe Raven hears the steel in her voice, a glimpse of the old Clarke Griffin that took no shit. Maybe her grudge is finally thawing out. Whatever the reason, Raven agrees to meet up with her.</p><p>Clarke is still nervous. She pulls up in front of Sinclair’s mechanic shop and leaves the engine running.</p><p>This isn’t going to be easy. Honestly, it’s going to suck. She doesn’t like bringing up what happened to Finn on a good day, inside the safety of her head. It’s hard enough to carry that burden <em>without </em>having Raven judge her for her choices.</p><p>With a sigh, Clarke digs out her phone and sends a text to Bellamy. <em>I’m meeting Raven. Wish me luck? </em></p><p>His reply buzzes in less than a minute later. Clarke feels some of the tightness in her chest lessen, her mood brightened by him. She can almost hear his reassuring voice in her ear.</p><p><strong> <em>Bellamy: </em> </strong> <em>you’ve got this. call me after. </em></p><p>Clarke cuts the engine and climbs out the car. No matter how this goes, good or bad, she knows she’ll be able to talk to Bellamy about it. That comforting thought folds over her like a fireplace's warmth on a chilly night. </p><p>She enters the shop, the bell chiming overhead. Sinclair is at the counter speaking with a couple of customers. Clarke waits for him to finish, looking into the open garage behind him where the machinery is broken down into parts and being worked on by employees in grease-stained jumpsuits.</p><p>The shop has had a few upgrades since Clarke was last here. She used to visit Raven on her lunch breaks years ago.</p><p>Her friend has been working for Sinclair since high school, staying on part-time throughout college. She knows the shop is like a second home to Raven, even as she moved on to bigger things—like her career at a lucrative tech company.</p><p>Sinclair calls her over when the customers leave, greeting her warmly. They catch up, talking about her mom, and how his business is doing, over the whirring of drills and machines in the background.</p><p>Finally, Raven emerges from the back of the garage. With her hair up in a messy ponytail, a grease mark on her cheek, and wearing the blue jumpsuit, she looks exactly like her eighteen-year-old self. It makes Clarke’s heart aches with nostalgia.</p><p>There are so many little things you don’t know how to appreciate enough until they’re gone. Looking back on her old self and her friendship with Raven, Clarke never would have guessed they’d end up here.</p><p>Raven nods her chin at her. “Let’s go out back.”</p><p>She wipes her face clean of grease and washes her hands, grabbing her bag of lunch before they go. Clarke follows her behind the shop to the picnic benches where the employees take their breaks.</p><p>She remembers sitting out here, splitting a bag of chips with Raven and gabbing about her co-worker Kyle Wick. They once spent the whole hour of her break going over the details when Raven slept with him and Clarke teased her about her obvious feelings for him.</p><p>They sit at a picnic table. Raven tears into her sandwich and Clarke readies herself to talk. The bag of Funyuns lays open between them like a peace offering.</p><p>“Thanks for meeting me,” Clarke starts.</p><p>Raven just stares at her, chewing, her dark eyes hard with resentment.</p><p>As Clarke looks back, she sees under the front Raven puts on for the rest of the world. Her friend hasn’t always been this harsh and judgmental. People have given her a reason to trust less, to be jaded towards their intentions. Clarke has become another person, after her mother and Finn, that has abandoned Raven, breaking her heart in the process.</p><p>She doesn’t waste time with more apologies. Raven doesn’t want to hear them. What Clarke can offer her are honesty and regret. What Raven does with that, well, that’s up to her.</p><p>Clarke licks her lips to begin. “When Bellamy and I were still together…Finn had a hard time accepting that I moved on. It was worse than you knew. Worse than Bellamy knew too. I didn’t tell anyone how bad it had gotten.”</p><p>Raven pauses, her eyes narrowing. “How bad?”</p><p>Clarke swallows. She still feels a bubble of anger and shame inflate her chest when she remembers. “He showed up at my house, Raven. Drunk, yelling. He left me messages that scared the shit out of me. Talking about how much he wanted me back, that he loved me and he was sorry. Then he would get angry and say that I ruined his life.”</p><p>Her face burns remembering. He called her horrible names. <em>His slut </em>was a favorite of Finn’s, referring to Bellamy. Clarke had to change her number to get the messages to stop.</p><p>Raven’s brow furrows. She starts to speak, but Clarke shakes her head.</p><p>“There’s more,” she says and Raven’s mouth shuts, her anger replaced with growing concern. “After I broke up with him, everyone started to see who he really was. You weren’t talking to him then. I got a restraining order against him. None of our friends spoke to him. He had no one and I think it got to him.”</p><p>Clarke takes a slow breath, picking at the table’s surface. “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve that. He was a toxic person. But he had his demons, too.”</p><p>Quietly, she tells Raven about the phone call and the suicide attempt. Then the hospital visit, Finn waking up resentful that she had saved his life. He didn’t want to be alive and he blamed her for that too. He blamed Raven and Bellamy, but she was there to get the worst of it.</p><p>Tears are sliding down Raven’s cheeks by the end. She listens as Clarke tries to describe her guilt, pulling away from Bellamy and everyone else. Finn’s words scarred her. She believed that she didn’t deserve any of them. Bellamy deserved better than her.</p><p>“It’s bullshit, Clarke,” Raven bursts, done holding her tongue. “Everything he said, everything he <em>did</em>–”</p><p>Clarke reaches out to take her hand. “I know,” she says softly. “I know better now.”</p><p>Raven’s glassy gaze holds on hers. The only other person that can understand what she went through is her. She was manipulated by him. Raven believed Finn’s lies once too. She fell for the same act, wanting to see him as a good person.</p><p>They’re silent for a few minutes, listening to the whistle of wind through the trees surrounding them. Raven’s hand clasping hers tightly is warm.</p><p>“I wish you had told me,” Raven mutters at last.</p><p>She nods. “Me too. I wish I hadn’t tried to deal with it on my own. That was my mistake and I regret it. I regretted it every day for years, Raven. But I can’t take any of it back.”</p><p>Raven wipes the tear tracks on her face with her free hand. The fiery anger has been burned out of her. She looks how Clarke feels: sad, tired, and contrite.</p><p>“I get it,” she says. “Hell, I get why you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone. I’d rather fall on my ass than admit I need help.”</p><p>Raven cracks a wry smile and Clarke grins back. Her stubbornness is legendary.</p><p>After a moment, Raven studies her closely, her smile fading. “Are you okay now?”</p><p>Clarke shrugs in answer. “I’ve stopped blaming myself completely. And going to visit Finn helped me get closure.”</p><p>She dives into the story of her trip to the Mount Weather facility. When she’s done, Raven fills in her version of the past few years and being there for Finn during his sobriety. The sun shifts in the sky, but she hardly notices the time passing as they open up to each other.</p><p>Eventually, they stand up from the table. Clarke stretches out her stiff limbs while Raven carries her garbage into a nearby trash can. Together, they slowly walk back to the shop.</p><p>Clarke feels good about their talk. There’s a gap there from their years out of each others' lives, but they’ve reached an understanding. They can move forward and hopefully start rebuilding the trust between them.</p><p>Before they reach the doors, Raven turns to her. “Emori’s coming over tomorrow night. We’re gonna stuff our faces and probably watch a sci-fi movie you’ll find boring…” She pauses when Clarke laughs. “You should come.”</p><p>Clarke doesn’t have to think twice. “I’ll be there. Might fall asleep during the movie though.”</p><p>Raven rolls her eyes playfully. “Like you did during <em>Inception</em>?”</p><p>She laughs harder. Her friends never let her live that down. She fell asleep on Bellamy’s chest during one of their movie nights at Monty and Jasper’s place.</p><p>They agree on a time for tomorrow and say their goodbyes. Raven pulls her into a brief, tight hug. “Don’t be a stranger. I mean it, Griffin.”</p><p>Clarke nods, blinking moisture out of her eyes. “I won’t. I missed you, Reyes.”</p><p>Her eyes are shiny when she steps back and pushes out a weak smirk. “Of course you did.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bellamy is about as happy about her making up with Raven as she is. Clarke calls him on the drive home and gushes about how well their meet-up went.</p><p>She talks to Bellamy almost every day now. It’s become part of her routine, finding a slip of time in her busy schedule with work and Madi to call him. Sometimes, they manage to talk when Bellamy’s leaving work for the day and Clarke’s on break at the hospital. He tells her all about his students’ antics or their reactions to his lesson that week.</p><p>Clarke treasures every lilt of his deep voice on the line. She could listen to him talk about anything. Six years was too long without hearing him.</p><p>It’s not always easy, of course. There are moments when she has to catch herself before dialing him on a random Tuesday evening because he’s likely with Echo.</p><p>Other times he has to hang up with Clarke because his girlfriend is calling him and it feels like a piece of her heart is being ripped out of her. She loses him again.</p><p>And sometimes, Clarke has to say <em>bye </em>or <em>talk to you later </em>while she thinks <em>I love you, Bellamy</em>. She whispers the words to the dial tone when the call ends.</p><p>It hurts so bad she can’t breathe. He was hers first. She loved him first. Bellamy was always supposed to be hers, but she has no one to blame but herself.</p><p>Clarke gets a request from Harper to paint the nursery at their house. She’s only about six weeks pregnant, but Harper and Monty are overexcited about becoming parents. They want to start decorating the nursery in a gender-neutral design and Clarke is honored that they asked her to contribute.</p><p>She invites Bellamy to go with her to pick out the paint color. It’s a flimsy excuse to hang-out with him. He’s been over a few times to see her and Madi at the apartment, but she wants Bellamy to herself for an afternoon.</p><p>Clarke picks him up outside his building. Her heart races at how good he looks in just a simple white V-neck and jeans that hug his legs. Bellamy flashes her a smile when he climbs into the car, wearing his square-framed glasses, and she melts like she’s still seventeen.</p><p><em>Damn it. </em>Why is she torturing herself?</p><p>That question gets answered as they drive into town.</p><p>“I’m good,” Clarke answers his question, mouth curving into a small smile. “Madi had a project for class, so we worked on it together last night. A plus work, if I say to myself. My mom and Marcus are—”</p><p>“No, Clarke,” Bellamy cuts her off, a soft reprimand. “How are <em>you </em>doing? Not Madi. Not your mom or stepdad. You.”</p><p>She glances at him in surprise. Bellamy is watching her intently, those deep brown eyes locked on her face. All at once, she is reminded why Bellamy is her person.</p><p>He wasn’t just her boyfriend for those years together. He’s always been her best friend. After losing her dad and Wells moving overseas, Bellamy became the only person that <em>sees </em>her.</p><p>He doesn’t just take her word for when she lies and says she’s fine, not afraid to probe deeper. He doesn’t let Clarke forget to look after herself and god, she’s missed him.</p><p>Clarke looks back at the road so she won’t be tempted to kiss him right there. <em>He’s not yours, not yours. </em></p><p>“I’m tired,” Clarke admits. “Exhausted, actually, from standing in surgery for 8 hours yesterday. Mom is driving me crazy because she’s bored being retired and wants to make up for lost time or something. And my boobs hurt, which means I’m getting my period soon.”</p><p>Clarke takes a breath after that and looks at Bellamy again with a smirk. “Honest enough?”</p><p>Bellamy smiles back at her, pleased. “That’s better.” His eyes linger on her as she makes a turn. “You’re amazing, you know.”</p><p>She lets out a shocked laugh. “<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he adds. “And I know you don’t hear it enough. You’re a good daughter and a great friend. You save people’s lives and even when you’re exhausted, you spend your free time shopping for paint for your friends’ nursery. You give away every part of yourself.”</p><p>She can’t speak for several moments, her throat squeezed tight with emotion. Clarke feels like she might cry. “Bellamy…”</p><p>“Don’t forget to look after yourself too, Princess.”</p><p>She has to collect herself. Overwhelmed by Bellamy’s concern and kindness.</p><p>It takes some coaxing to get Bellamy to reciprocate. He’s selfless to the core. Neither of them is the type to sit around and hear themselves complain.</p><p>But this is what they’ve done for each other since meeting at the hospital. Being that shoulder to lean on or that ear to listen when they can’t be vulnerable in front of anyone else. He’s had to be strong for Octavia, but he doesn’t have to with her.</p><p>Bellamy rants to her about the school’s Algebra teacher that’s apparently a prick. He vents about not having enough supplies for his students again this year. He thinks he might have pulled a muscle playing basketball with Miller and Clarke promises to check it out for him.</p><p>They’re nearing the store when Clarke clears her throat. “You can talk about Echo, you know. I mean, if you need to.”</p><p>The easy air between them gets a ripple of tension. Clarke ignores it. She wants her friendship with Bellamy to be open and honest.</p><p>In her peripheral vision, she can see Bellamy’s shoulders tensing up. “You can talk about Lexa,” he replies quietly.</p><p>Clarke’s foot almost slips breaking for the red light. Where did that come from? Not what she was expecting him to say.</p><p>The tension in the car is uncomfortable at this point. Clarke isn’t sure how to respond other than total transparency.</p><p>“There’s nothing to say. I told you at the restaurant. We’re just friends.”</p><p>“What do you guys talk about?”</p><p>
  <em>You. </em>
</p><p>Clarke’s cheeks warm. That’s not all they discuss, of course. Lexa fills her in on their mutual friends in Polis. She tells Clarke about her hit-or-miss dates. Time and distance have made it possible for them to forge a friendship after their break-up.</p><p>But often, the subject of their texts is Bellamy. Lexa has called her out on her shit since they met and this isn’t any different. Her ex thinks Clarke is ridiculous for not confessing her feelings after she moved back home for him.</p><p>“Friends in Polis,” Clarke answers, going for nonchalant. “Work. Other stuff. We’re not, like, pining for each other. I mean, it’s over.”</p><p>She winces to herself. Her fumbling answer sounds about as awkward as she feels. The whole conversation is uncomfortable, discussing her ex-fiancée with her ex-boyfriend that she’s still in love with.</p><p>Bellamy is quiet as Clarke parks in front of the store. She notices he didn’t answer her question about Echo. Her curiosity is roused, but she won’t push him.</p><p>They stroll inside, Clarke leading them to the section of paint swatches that she is familiar with.</p><p>“I was thinking of something soft,” she tells him, her eyes scanning over the selections. “Maybe a pastel or a pearl gray.”</p><p>Bellamy nods along, his shoulder brushing against hers as he eyes the swatches on the wall. “Gender-neutral, yeah?”</p><p>“Right. They’re not going to find out the sex for a while.”</p><p>Bellamy grabs a few swatches to show and get her opinion on. In between, he notes, “Crazy that Monty and Harper are gonna be parents.”</p><p>Clarke’s eyes widen at him. “I <em>know. </em>Monty is still the kid that sold pot in high school to me. Now he’s going to be someone’s <em>dad</em>.”</p><p>Bellamy snorts. “Jasper will probably sneak the kid weed when he’s thirteen.”</p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>They each pick about five of their favorite paint colors. From that group, they narrow the selection down to three they both like and plan to take back to Monty and Harper for approval.</p><p>There’s a Taco Craft down the block that they walk to after leaving the store. The late October air is cool and slightly breezy, making it bearable to walk.</p><p>Clarke makes Bellamy laugh with the tales of her mother’s new hobbies. Abby is trying to keep herself entertained in retirement. Her baking skills were a bust and her interest in interior decorating lasted about two weeks. Now she’s trying out gardening.</p><p>Bellamy nudges her arm, a playful curl to his lips. “Maybe your mom should take up growing pot.”</p><p>“If it chills her out, I say go for it,” Clarke retorts. “I’ll give her Monty’s number.”</p><p>Bellamy’s shoulders shake with laughter as he steps up to place his order.</p><p>The mood between them is back to being light after that blip of awkwardness in the car. They take their food and find a table to sit at. Clarke gets caught smiling dopily more than once as Bellamy devours his tacos.</p><p>His dark brows draw over his eyes. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Clarke says, still smiling to herself.</p><p>She’s just happy to be here enjoying a meal with him. Only a couple of months ago, she caught him eating at Friendly’s and longed to be where she is now, sharing his laughter and his thoughts and his time.</p><p>At one point Bellamy’s tongue darts out to lick a drop of sour cream off his upper lip. Clarke nearly groans out loud. How can he make eating a taco look sexy?</p><p>This is the price she has to pay for being his friend. Enduring the attraction and longing that crackles like a wildfire in her veins. Swallowing back the affection that almost bubbles out of her whenever he does something so…<em>Bellamy</em>.</p><p>She’ll pay the price every time. It’s worth it to have her person back.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Clarke is pulling out the ingredients for dinner when there’s a knock on the front door.</p><p>She glances at her silent phone sitting on the counter with a puzzled frown. The only person that might show up at 7 in the evening is her mother and Abby would call first. Maybe her neighbor needs to borrow something.</p><p>She passes Madi on her way to the door. Her daughter is seated on the living room carpet working on a masterpiece with her box of crayons.</p><p>Clarke glances in the peephole. Her heart jumps at the familiar figure standing in the hallway. It’s Bellamy.</p><p>She opens the door, a confused smile tugging at her lips. “Bell, hey. Is everything okay?”</p><p>He grins at her, a mischievous shine in his brown eyes. He’s wearing a dark blue hoodie and a pair of running shorts with his tennis shoes. Her building isn’t in his neighborhood for an evening jog.</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong,” he reassures her, stepping over the threshold.</p><p>“Bellamy!” Madi calls out in a sing-song voice before she races to the front door.</p><p>Despite her confusion over this unexpected visit, Clarke’s chest floods with warmth at her daughter’s excitement. She tackles Bellamy’s legs at full force. Bellamy crouches down to hug her properly.</p><p>“Hey kiddo,” he greets her. “How’s it going?”</p><p>“I’m drawing a rocket ship! Wanna see?”</p><p>“An artist like your mom, huh?” Bellamy flicks his gaze up to her, naked affection in its depths. “’ Course I do.”</p><p>He scoops Madi up in his arms when he stands and her daughter squeals in delight. Bellamy counts down to blast-off and flies Madi through the air like she’s in a rocket ship on their journey to the living room.</p><p>Clarke notes that he seems to be in a good mood. The two most important people in the world to her are happy and that’s all she really cares about. She cherishes the sight of Bellamy and Madi together as her daughter displays her drawings.</p><p>When the demonstrations are through, Bellamy tilts his head toward her in question. “Have you guys had dinner yet?”</p><p>“I was just about to start cooking,” Clarke answers. She’s about to invite him to stay when Bellamy reveals the real reason for his visit.</p><p>His attention shifts back to Madi. “Hey Madi, how do you feel about grabbing some pizza with me? I’ve got a soccer ball in my car. I was thinking of hitting the park after. What do you say?”</p><p>Of course, Madi reacts like this is the best idea she’s ever heard.</p><p>Bellamy glances at her, eyebrows raised, and Clarke could throw something at him for being so sneaky. She can’t say no to that plan without being the “bad cop”. Not that she would say no. She trusts Bellamy with her daughter. It’s just unexpected.</p><p>Madi rushes off to her room at Clarke’s instruction to change clothes. That’s when Bellamy stands up, groaning at his creaky knees and moves over to join her.</p><p>She just shakes her head at him. “Nice ambush.”</p><p>Bellamy looks pleased that his plan worked out, not the least bit guilty. “I thought you could use a night for yourself. We both know you won’t do it unless it’s forced upon you.”</p><p>Clarke’s mouth shuts at that. Naturally, there’s a good reason behind Bellamy's plot to send her night into unexpected chaos. And that reason is his thoughtfulness.</p><p>She recalls their conversation on the way to the paint store. Bellamy reminded her to look after herself. It’s not that she desires being tired or stretched thin most days. Her schedule is busy being both a full-time mother and a full-time doctor. Her daughter and her patients have to come first.</p><p>“Thank you,” Clarke murmurs when she finds her voice. “You didn’t have to do this, Bellamy.”</p><p>He shrugs the gesture off like it’s no big deal. Bellamy studies her for a long moment, a fond smile curving his lips. He reaches over to brush his thumb across her temple and Clarke shivers at his touch.</p><p>“Don’t overthink this,” he tells her. “Relax, draw, take a bath. Whatever you want. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”</p><p>Soon the two of them disappear out the door and the apartment is strangely silent. Clarke is struck by the urge to be <em>doing </em>something. She’s always doing something, most likely multitasking, and planning in her head. Standing still feels odd. Relaxing is a foreign concept.</p><p>Clarke takes a few deep breaths, muscles unclenching, letting her mind wander. Years have passed since she’s let herself consider what only <em>she </em>wants.</p><p>In the end, she decides on drawing a bath. While the water is pouring, she helps herself to a large glass of white wine and puts on a playlist of slow songs. There are bath salts in the cabinet that have never been used, so she drops those into the filling tub.</p><p>The water is the perfect temperature. The music is soothing. Clarke nearly falls asleep in the tub, feeling boneless and truly calm. Two glasses of wine help her unwind, placing a happy buzz over her racing mind.</p><p>Leisurely, she climbs out of the tub half-an-hour later and slips into a silk robe. The material feels nice and cool against her flushed body. Clarke hums along to the music and sketches with her charcoal for the rest of her time alone.</p><p>Another knock on the door comes after nine. With a smile, Clarke goes to let Bellamy and her daughter into the apartment.</p><p>“Hi, Mom!” Madi chirps. Her blue eyes are bright with joy, her pale cheeks colored pink from all the excitement. She collected a few grass stains on her Star Wars t-shirt.</p><p>Clarke’s smile widens. She tucks her into her arms for a hug. “Hi, honey. Did you have a good time?”</p><p>“The best!”</p><p>Madi is practically vibrating out of her skin. Her words fly out in a breathless heap. She tells Clarke all about their pizza dinner and playing soccer in the park where Bellamy taught her a few tricks.</p><p>Clarke sends her to the bathroom to clean up and brush her teeth. She turns back to Bellamy, a smile lingering on her lips. It’s no secret that her daughter adores him.</p><p>Bellamy’s gaze drops below her face. That’s when she notices her robe has slipped, revealing the shape of her collarbone and a bare shoulder.</p><p>Her body flushes with heat under that stare. The look in his dark eyes is hungry as he devours the glimpse of skin. His nostrils flare and Clarke wonders if he can smell her jasmine-scented body scrub.</p><p>Pride tingles in Clarke’s chest. At least a part of him is still attracted to her. Greedily, she’ll take it.</p><p>Bellamy snaps himself out of his trance. He averts his gaze, his hand coming up to tug at his ear lobe in an awkward gesture. He asks his question while not meeting her eyes.</p><p>“Uh, what did you get up to?”</p><p>Clarke presses her lips together, stifling a smirk. “I had a bath. Listened to some music. Did a bit of drawing. It was very relaxing.”</p><p>“That’s good.” Bellamy clears his throat before he looks at her. “You deserved that.”</p><p>“I don’t know how to thank you, Bell.”</p><p>He shakes his head. The glint in his eye is determined, leaving her to anticipate how Bellamy will speak his mind. “You don’t have to. I’m always going to be here for you. Look, I let my anger over how we ended things get the best of me. But I’m going to be a better friend to you.”</p><p>He has been. Before she can reassure him, the moment between them is broken by Madi sprinting towards them. Clarke reaches out to catch her.</p><p>“Okay, bug,” Clarke laughs. “Let’s take it down a notch. It’s time for you to get to bed.”</p><p>Madi pouts. “I’m not tired!”</p><p>Over her head, Clarke shares a knowing look with Bellamy. He’s heard that from O before. But it’s after Madi’s bedtime and her daughter has used up all of her energy on playing soccer. They both suspect she’ll fall asleep when her head hits the pillow.</p><p>Bellamy arches a brow. “I’ll read you a story, Madi. But you have to listen to your mom and get in bed. Deal?”</p><p>“Deal,” she agrees.</p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes at his smug face. He’s Madi’s favorite. Of course, she’s going to listen to him with no complaints. Especially after he buttered her up with pizza.</p><p>The three of them move to Madi’s room. Her daughter has been on a sci-fi kick lately, so Madi picks out Midnight on the Moon as her bedtime story. Her Magic Tree House collection is extensive.</p><p>With Madi tucked in, Clarke leans against the wall on her bed, while Bellamy sits in the purple bean bag chair. He starts reading out loud and doesn’t get further than twenty pages before Madi is sound asleep.</p><p>Bellamy chuckles, closing the book, and Clarke carefully climbs off the bed. She flicks the light off on their way out the door.</p><p>“Do you want wine? I already opened a bottle.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He accepts the glass she pours for him. She gets another one for herself and they drift toward the couch in the living room. They sip at their drinks in comfortable silence.</p><p>Clarke becomes aware that she’s still wearing a silk robe and nothing else when she crosses her legs. The material slides up her thigh. A glance at Bellamy confirms that he notices, his eyes like a warm caress down her bare legs.</p><p>Clarke tries to ignore how his attention thrills her, stirring a dangerous heat in her abdomen. She made a vow to herself to never be the other woman again. Not after the love triangle disaster with Finn.</p><p>This is different. This is Bellamy. They aren’t those people.</p><p>“Thanks for taking Madi out,” she murmurs, turning to look at him. She admires the way the city lights from the window sweep across his skin and his freckles stand out under their focus. “I feel guilty sometimes that she just has me and not a complete set of parents. It’s part of why I moved back to Arkadia.”</p><p>Bellamy’s face creases into a frown. “After my dad died and O’s dad left us, it fell on my mom’s shoulders to raise us. She still had to work two jobs to support our family. That meant having the neighbor watch us or me taking care of O when I was older. It takes a village. I get it, but you don’t have to feel guilty.”</p><p>Clarke stares at Bellamy in quiet amazement. He has a way of knowing what to say to unburden her.</p><p>“You don’t talk to Octavia anymore,” she says softly.</p><p>She phrases it like a statement, not a question. From their interactions these past few weeks, Clarke has gathered that his little sister isn’t an active part of his life at the moment.</p><p>Bellamy’s expression darkens. There are shadows that steal the light from his eyes. “No.”</p><p>Her heart hurts for him. Clarke lays a gentle hand over his. “What happened?”</p><p>He throws back the rest of his wine. She waits for him to be ready. Bellamy slams the glass down when he’s finished and sighs. “Well, my dating Echo was the ultimate betrayal.”</p><p>Clarke winces. “I can’t imagine that going over well.”</p><p>Bellamy smiles humorlessly. “No, it didn’t. You know, I get it. O had the right to be upset. All I asked is that she <em>try. </em>She could try to accept us. I’ve always tried for her exes, even when I didn’t approve of them.”</p><p>She hums in agreement. “That’s reasonable.”</p><p>Clarke herself isn’t Echo’s biggest fan. It took her time to adjust to the thought of them dating. But she trusts Bellamy’s judgment and his happiness is more important to her than holding a grudge.</p><p>“Well, she couldn’t do that. We got into this huge fight.” He drags a hand over his face. “We haven’t talked since then.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Bell.”</p><p>The Blakes sibling relationship has always been complex. Bellamy’s overprotectiveness was often at war with Octavia’s hatred of being controlled. Losing their mother made their fights worse.</p><p>They harbored a lot of love for each other too. Clarke witnessed Bellamy’s devotion to his little sister. Even when Octavia went down a dark path he didn’t condone, he offered support. He bailed her out of jail and gave her a room at his and Clarke’s townhouse.</p><p>Alone at night in their bedroom, Bellamy confessed to her that he was worried about enabling his sister. He didn’t want to abandon her either. Clarke tried to help in her own way. But ultimately the only person that could help Octavia was herself.</p><p>Clarke hates seeing Bellamy’s mood so low. An idea forms in her head on how to take his mind off this topic. She stands up then to retrieve one of her sketchbooks from her room.</p><p>He regards her curiously when she returns to the couch. “I have drawings from my time in Polis,” she explains. “Would you want to see them?”</p><p>He gives her a small, fond smile. "'Course I do." </p><p>Bellamy leans in close as she flips through the sketchbook, his delicious scent swarming her. His warmth seeps into her side. She shows all of her favorite spots in Polis and the people she met, captured through her eyes.</p><p>They get into a discussion about the old city's history. Like the nerd he is, Bellamy informs her about the past battles that took place on Polis' lands. Clarke listens with amusement, pleased to see him animated and talkative again. </p><p>By midnight, he’s yawning. They’ve been talking for hours and went through the bottle of wine. Clarke refuses to let him drive, so he grudgingly accepts her offer to crash on the couch. She finds him a pillow and a blanket before bidding him goodnight.</p><p>“Goodnight, Princess.”</p><p>This isn’t exactly the daydream she had for the three of them. But Clarke has lived without Bellamy in her life at all. She knows which life she’d choose.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts. ❤️</p><p>Here's my <a href="http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6f0NOzIsAnPwWvwtWPgbJd">playlist</a> for this story.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. whenever you're ready</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys!</p><p>Thank you again to the sweet people that checked in on me. For those wondering, Bellarke are still an inspiration to me. It brings me happiness to write about them and to connect with this fandom. </p><p>I plan on writing more stories for them, regardless of real life circumstances or the outcome of canon. </p><p>Here's to Clarke &amp; Bellamy's reunion in this universe. Enjoy ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>It’s been a long time coming. If Bellamy is being honest with himself, this was set in motion the moment she stepped into that emergency room and turned his bad day into the worst one he had all year.</p><p>Because all it took was seeing those piercing blue eyes again to realize that his heart was never broken. No, his heart had been missing. Stolen. He was staring in the face of it, his thief, the love of his life.</p><p>He still belonged to Clarke Griffin completely and he been living nothing but a half-life for the past six years.</p><p>Bellamy didn’t realize this all at once. He had put walls up to protect himself from getting hurt and anger that had to be listened to, emotions that were never let out and processed. He and Clarke weren’t finished with each other.</p><p>They reached an understanding. They were able to forgive each other for the wounds they inflicted, both past and present.</p><p>Bellamy had his person back. His best friend. It was the most natural thing in the world to call her when something happened, when he had good news to share or he had a bad day and needed to vent.</p><p>He didn’t recognize the signs in front of him until it was too late. Until he had already integrated himself into Clarke’s family and felt the <em>rightness </em>of his place inside her home.</p><p>The morning after he had crashed on the couch, he is the first to wake up. Bellamy puts on a pot of coffee and is soon joined by Clarke. His heart squeezes at the sight of her puffy eyes, messy blonde hair, and an oversized band T-shirt.</p><p>She gives him a small, sleepy smile. “Hey. Sleep well?”</p><p>Bellamy can’t speak. He can hardly move.</p><p>This is the same woman that puts on scrubs and saves people’s lives. The bossy girl with the neat braid that was once her class’s Homecoming Princess. The broken seventeen-year-old that showed him kindness and made him feel seen. The young woman that ran away and bravely returned to face her past mistakes.</p><p>Clarke is a complicated, intense person and Bellamy is in love with every version of her that exists.</p><p>The realization startles him. His hand slips and he spills hot coffee on his bare feet.</p><p>“Fuck!” Bellamy swears, nearly dropping the steaming mug on the floor.</p><p>Clarke’s eyes widen and she rushes to find a towel for him.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>He nods jerkily, focused on mopping up the coffee from the floor. The pain from the scalding liquid has turned into a dull burn. What a fucking wake-up call.</p><p>“I should go,” he mutters.</p><p>In his peripheral vision, he sees the shock crossing Clarke’s expression as he sets his mug in the sink.</p><p>“It’s just some spilled coffee, Bell,” she says. “No need to throw yourself out.”</p><p>He can’t stay here. Clarke reaches out to lay a hand on his back and his first response is to flinch away from her.</p><p>He’s shaken up inside, his emotions colliding and tripping over each other. Guilt crashing into happiness. Fear ripping apart his sense of peace. Last night he went to sleep content and he woke up to his world flipping over.</p><p>Clarke is concerned as she walks him out. There’s nothing he can do for that, not in his state. Bellamy is too preoccupied sorting himself out as he walks in a daze to his parked car.</p><p>Bellamy drives away from her building with no destination in mind. He’s on autopilot. All he knows is that he can’t go home yet and he needs time to clear his head.</p><p>He ends up driving to the park he took Madi to last night. Bellamy angles his car under the shade of a large tree. He sits with the engine running, cold air blasting into his cheeks.</p><p>In the clear light of the day, there’s nowhere for him to hide.</p><p>Bellamy remembers last night. He remembers that his last conscious thought before he fell asleep was <em>her</em>. Clarke and no one else.</p><p>He’s been fooling himself for weeks. Maybe even months. Murphy saw right through him. Their other friends probably did too. Shame burns hot in his gut for what an idiot he’s been.</p><p>No, not an idiot, Bellamy decides. A <em>coward</em>.</p><p>A coward that has been hiding from the truth, from himself. He fed himself lies about being Clarke’s friend and let himself believe them for a little while. The lie was easier to live with. He didn’t have to be afraid of getting hurt or losing his relationship with Echo if he was just Clarke’s friend.</p><p>Bellamy remembers his girlfriend and squeezes his eyes shut. The guilt sweeps through him in a nauseating wave.</p><p>In his mind, he sees her brown eyes lit by the gas station’s lighting. A glimpse of rare vulnerability.</p><p>
  <em>"Promise me if something changes with us, you'll tell me. I don't want to be the last to know."</em>
</p><p>Grimacing to himself, Bellamy throws the car into reverse. He knows what he has to do.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He gets back to their place before Echo does. She went to a concert the night before with some friends. Bellamy has time to shower, make himself another cup of coffee, and sit quietly with his thoughts before she arrives.</p><p>He hears the turn of the lock before the door opens. Bellamy’s gut clenches with dread. It’s the right thing to do, but he doesn’t want to hurt her.</p><p>Echo smiles upon seeing him. She goes to put away her things before joining him in the kitchen. He smells her perfume as she leans in to kiss his cheek.</p><p>His body tenses. Echo, observant as always, notices as she draws back. Her eyes narrow at him. “What it is?”</p><p>Bellamy clears his throat. “Sit down. I need to talk to you.”</p><p>He sees it, although he wishes he didn’t. The moment Echo understands what’s happening. There’s a flash of hurt and shock in her eyes before she shuts down, her expression cold.</p><p>She presses her lips into a thin line. Bellamy endures the iciness of her glare.</p><p>Slowly, Echo lowers herself into the chair. Her voice is emotionless. “So this is it.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Why?” she demands. “Why are you sorry, Bellamy?”</p><p>He resists the urge to reach for her hand. The way she’s drawn up her protective walls suggests she wouldn’t appreciate his comfort.</p><p>“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he explains softly. “I don’t want to. You mean a lot to me, Echo.”</p><p>“Just say it.”</p><p>Bellamy winces to himself at the callousness of the words. There’s no point in sugarcoating or being unclear. “I want to break-up.”</p><p>She looks away from him. Echo doesn’t speak for a while. Her side profile is cut from stone, all hard edges. But he knows her, knows the emotional turmoil she’s trying to conceal beneath the surface.</p><p>A tear sneaks out of her eye that she hastily swipes away. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? <em>Clarke</em>.”</p><p>Bellamy hesitates. It would be cruel to say that. Yes, he’s in love with someone else. But he’s not jumping into a relationship with her either. He doesn’t know what Clarke feels for him other than friendship.</p><p>“Echo—”</p><p>She turns back to him sharply. “Tell me the truth. You owe me that much, Bellamy. What was this?” She gestures between the two of them. “Were you settling for me until she came back?”</p><p>His eyes widen in horror. Bellamy hates the thought of her believing that.</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” he answers immediately. “Listen to me. I care about you, Echo. You were my friend when I needed you. You helped me get through a lot of shit. And we were good for each other.”</p><p>He thought for a long time before Echo arrived. Bellamy wanted to be sure he was doing the right thing. If it was right to end this relationship because of rekindling feelings for his ex-girlfriend.</p><p>He recalled their conversation about having children. He reflected on how he felt coming home and waking up to Echo every day. He tried to picture what the rest of their lives might look like and asked himself why he never considered proposing to Echo.</p><p>He loved her. He cared for her. But he’s never been in love with her.</p><p>Bellamy pauses and licks his lips. “But the truth is, I don’t see a future for us. I think we want different things. I know you’re upset now, but deep down, I think you know that’s true. We deserve better than that. We deserve to find what we’re looking for.”</p><p>Echo’s lips curve into a brittle smile. “You’re a good man, Bellamy. That’s why I fell for you. I hoped you could help me be better. But you don’t need to spare me. You want to be with Clarke.”</p><p>“Yes,” he admits reluctantly. “You’re right. I was never over her. I don’t think it’s fair to be with you when I still feel this way for her.”</p><p>“I can appreciate that,” she tells him, in a slightly warmer tone.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Bellamy says again. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Silence stretches between them. Bellamy feels like the hardest part has passed. The burden crushing him this morning has eased. He’s not sure where to go from here.</p><p>He gives her time to gather herself. After a while, Echo hardens her jaw and stands up from the table. “I’m going to pack my stuff. I’ll go stay with Emori.”</p><p>Bellamy moves to stop her. “Hey. No one’s kicking you out. We can—”</p><p>Echo’s expression is firm. “This is your apartment, Bellamy. I need a place of my own. I need to be away from you right now.”</p><p>He understands, but it still stings. It’s not the right time to ask if they can still be friends after this. He meant what he said. Echo helped him out of his funk when Clarke left him. Bellamy doesn’t want to lose her.</p><p>Bellamy swallows thickly. “Alright. I’ll just…leave you to it.”</p><p>He steps out of the apartment to give Echo space, going out to run a few errands. By the time he returns a few hours later, she seems to have most of her things packed up in boxes.</p><p>A hard knot of guilt is lodged in his throat. He feels horrible making her leave the place she’s lived for the past year. Echo’s red-rimmed eyes don’t help his guilt either. She was crying while he was gone.</p><p>He carries the boxes downstairs and loads them into her car. The atmosphere is tense between them. They speak almost like strangers about Echo returning another day for her stuff and to make sure he’s not there.</p><p>Echo isn’t an openly emotional or sentimental person. It’s been a point of strain in their relationship before. He shouldn’t expect their break-up to be any different.</p><p>“I’ll leave the key,” she tells him coolly. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t contact me for a while.”</p><p>“Fine,” Bellamy mutters. “Do you…do you want me to tell our friends?”</p><p>“I don’t care.”</p><p>He flexes his jaw, watching her pull open the driver’s side door. He reaches for her shoulder before she can climb in and speed away from him.</p><p>“Echo.” She turns her head to meet his eyes. “Look, take care of yourself. I want you to know, you can come to me. For anything. Ok?”</p><p>She nods. “Goodbye, Bellamy.”</p><p>There’s a deep ache in his chest as he stands in front of the building, his eyes following her car down the street. That’s it. Over a year together and it’s over in a matter of hours.</p><p>Bellamy can’t help but compare how he feels now, this hollow disappointment, to how he felt after his break-up with Clarke.</p><p>The devastation that he had lost something irreplaceable had nearly brought him to his knees. Clarke took a vital piece of him with her. The pain was unlike anything he had ever known. It wasn’t just his heart that broke. Bellamy felt that pain in his whole body.</p><p>And now, the person he longs to call to talk about this with is Clarke.</p><p>But Bellamy ignores the urge to reach out to her. Instead, he goes upstairs, back to his place, and distracts himself by working on his next lesson plan.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Two weeks after the break-up, his friends finally convince Bellamy to come out with them.</p><p>He hasn’t felt up to hanging out lately. The apartment has been quiet and empty since Echo cleared out the last of her things, leaving Bellamy with his thoughts for company. And his head is a dark place to be these days.</p><p>He feels like shit for hurting Echo. His attempt to move on was a total failure. Somehow, he ended up back where he started. Alone and pining for Clarke Griffin.</p><p>On Saturday night Bellamy is slumped on his couch, staring blankly at the television screen. There’s a documentary playing on the History Channel that he can’t bring himself to care about. His untouched beer has gone flat and warm.</p><p>Then someone starts pounding on his front door. Bellamy ignores the noise.</p><p>“BLAKE!” That’s Miller’s voice yelling. “Open up!”</p><p>More pounding on the door. There’s a mixture of voices echoing in the hallway. Mindlessly, he turns up the volume on the TV. They’ll leave eventually.</p><p>He’s wrong. The door bursts open and footsteps stomp toward him. Suddenly, Miller, Monty, and Murphy are gaping down at him. Their expressions vary from concern to repulsion.</p><p>“This is pathetic,” Murphy sneers before wrinkling his nose. “When was the last time you showered?”</p><p>Miller sniffs the air too. “You <em>are</em> a little ripe, man.”</p><p>Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Go away.”</p><p>Monty starts collecting the empty take-out containers and bottles spread out on his coffee table.</p><p>Miller shakes his head at him in disappointment. “Why do you always do this?”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“<em>This</em>,” he retorts, gesturing sharply at him. “Every time you go through a break-up, it’s like the whole damn world has ended. Look, Echo is fine, ok? She did that thing girls do—got a new haircut and moved on. Stop torturing yourself.”</p><p>Belatedly, Bellamy turns his head to glance at his front door. “How the hell did you guys get in here?”</p><p>“Picked the locks,” Murphy drawls like the question is a waste of time. “Don’t change the subject. Get your ass up and shower. You’re nauseating me.”</p><p>“Then leave,” Bellamy says flatly. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>Murphy throws his head back and groans, muttering what sounds like “fucking drama queen” under his breath.</p><p>Monty is the only one apparently brave enough to sit next to him on the couch. His kind, wise eyes look right through him. “This isn’t just about Echo, is it?”</p><p>Three pairs of eyes bore through him. Bellamy withstands the urge to squirm and clenches his jaw. He glares defiantly at each of them.</p><p>Bellamy soon learns that his closest friends came armed with a plan. With their combined strength, they ambush him. He is pulled off the couch, his protests ignored, and dragged into the bathroom. They turn on his shower and lock him in.</p><p>He goes through the motions, mostly so they’ll leave him alone. The three of them are waiting outside the bathroom when he emerges, hair dripping wet and freshly clean.</p><p>“Happy?” he growls.</p><p>“Well, I can breathe through my nose now,” Murphy replies snarkily.</p><p>Bellamy flips them off on his way into his bedroom to change. He throws on the first thing he grabs, not caring about what he looks like.</p><p>His friends are murmuring amongst themselves when he steps out of his room. Bellamy raises his brows when they stop talking and turn to face him.</p><p>Miller scans over his appearance and frowns. “Not that shirt. Wear the gray one.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Clarke likes the gray button-down shirt.”</p><p>Hearing Clarke’s name sends an electric shock through his veins. Miller’s right. She does like that shirt on him. But he has no idea what that has to do with anything or how Miller is aware of that information.</p><p>Bellamy narrows his eyes. “Start talking. Now. What the fuck is going on?”</p><p>Murphy sighs. “We’re going to the Lantern tonight. Clarke is coming. Just put the stupid shirt on so we can go.”</p><p>“No,” he says immediately. “That’s not happening.”</p><p>Miller shoots Murphy an annoyed look. “Why did you tell him? We were just supposed to get in the car and drive there!”</p><p>Monty takes a step toward him, ignoring the bickering that breaks out. “Look, tonight is just about hanging out with your friends. We’re worried about you.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Bellamy snaps.</p><p>Monty frowns. “You’re not,” he says softly. “Nobody’s heard from you in weeks. It’s not healthy, Bellamy. Just come out with us for a couple of hours.”</p><p>A part of him is tempted. He’s been lonely trapped inside this apartment. Seeing their faces again reminds Bellamy of how much he missed his friends, as invasive and meddling as they are. Their concern is touching.</p><p>Bellamy eyes the other two, his heart thumping erratically. “What does Clarke have to do with this?”</p><p>Monty silences Murphy and Miller with a warning glance before he answers. “She wants to see you. We told her you were coming tonight. That’s why she agreed.”</p><p>Guilt resurfaces like a stone in the pit of his stomach. He hasn’t answered her texts and calls in the past two weeks. Of course she’s worried.</p><p>In the end, that’s what gets him out the door. Bellamy doesn’t want to disappoint her again. He made her a promise about being a good friend and he’s failed that as well. She deserves an apology from him and he’ll ease her worries.</p><p>With renewed energy, Bellamy ducks back into the bedroom to change his shirt. He sprays himself with cologne and makes a real attempt to fix his damp hair. When he’s ready, he grabs his things and follows his friends to Miller’s truck.</p><p>During the drive, the three of them catch up. According to Miller, he hasn’t missed much during his brief absence. Monty says Harper is adjusting to morning sickness.</p><p>Murphy tells them about his plan to impress Emori and convince her to give him another chance, which Bellamy thinks won’t go as well as Murphy believes. Monty tries to give him advice on talking things out with Emori, but Murphy claims he knows Emori better than all of them.</p><p>They arrive at the Lantern, parking in the dimly lit parking lot. Bellamy follows them inside the bar, wincing at the cacophony of voices and music. Hard to believe he used to visit nightclubs every weekend. This atmosphere irritates him now. He’d rather be at home.</p><p>His mood lifts spotting Clarke at the bar. She looks beautiful. Her black skirt shows off her legs and the smoky make-up makes her blue eyes luminous. He likes her soft look in worn T-shirts, but this is sexy too.</p><p>“Wow.”</p><p>That’s the first thing out of his mouth when he reaches her.</p><p>Her lips curve, blue eyes glittering in amusement. Then Clarke seems to remember they haven’t spoken in weeks and her face grows sober. Her brow puckers in concern.</p><p>“I’m sorry about Echo,” she says. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Her face is all it takes to get the truth out of him.</p><p>“Not really,” Bellamy admits, grimacing to himself. “I didn’t want to come out. They made me.”</p><p>He jerks his chin in the direction of Miller, Monty, and Murphy. They’re gathered at the table with the girls, Jackson and Shaw. Raven is pouring shot glasses from a large pitcher and Emori is laughing, swatting Murphy’s arm.</p><p>Bellamy is happy to see them happy, as always. But he also feels no interest in joining them. He won’t be good company tonight.</p><p>When he turns back to her, Clarke is frowning at him. Thoughts are taking shape behind her sharp eyes. She leans into to ask something to the bartender, who nods at her. Then Clarke reaches for his hand.</p><p>Bellamy doesn’t ask any questions. He’s fine with her leading him anywhere, even across the crowded bar, away from their table of friends. Clarke steers them into a back hallway, through a set of doors labeled <em>employees only</em>.</p><p>They emerge into a dark, quiet alley. Facing them is a brick wall of another building. They must be behind the bar. Here, the noise of the street is blocked. A set of wooden crates on the ground is their only company.</p><p>As they sit down, Clarke explains this is where the bar gets its deliveries.</p><p>Bellamy arches a brow. “Did Murphy tell you about this?”</p><p>She shakes her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know Anya the manager? We had a, uh, <em>thing</em> when I was in high school. Nothing serious.”</p><p>He snorts. “I see.”</p><p>Vaguely, he remembers Clarke mentioning a bartender she hooked-up with before Finn. Her parents didn’t know, of course, as Anya was too old for her.</p><p>The back door creaks open. The bartender on call slips through to hand them two drinks and place an order of cheese fries on a crate. Clarke thanks him before he leaves them alone.</p><p>Bellamy’s jaw has dropped. He’s holding a glass of Dr. Pepper filled with ice. Clarke has iced tea in hers. They were just served fries like they’re at a restaurant instead of an alley.</p><p>“I thought the kitchen closed at nine.”</p><p>Clarke winks. “I have my ways.”</p><p><em>She’s amazing, </em>Bellamy thinks, not for the last time in his life. She did this for him just so he didn’t have to sulk at the table with their rowdy, drunk friends.</p><p>She takes a sip of her drink through a straw and Bellamy shifts on the crate. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been hiding. Especially not from you.”</p><p>Clarke sets her glass down to focus on him. “Bell, it’s okay. You’re going through a hard time. I know it’s easier to hide from the world. But I’m here if you need me. Always.”</p><p>Bellamy looks away from her, his fingers tightening around the cold glass. She doesn’t know how he feels about her. The real reason he couldn’t see her or hear her voice. Already he’s on the edge of breaking open, his love for this amazing woman pressing insistently at the seams.</p><p>His heart doesn’t care about disrespecting Echo. Or the fact that Clarke has moved on from him and asked for his friendship. All his selfish heart gives a damn about is pouring itself out at Clarke’s feet and begging her to love him again.</p><p>Bellamy reaches for the fries so he won’t speak. Or worse—take her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them can breathe.</p><p>He’s quiet, holding his tongue in fear of what might spill out of him. But Clarke doesn’t force him to talk. She seems content to just sit there and be with him.</p><p>For a while, he forgets about the rest of the world. It feels like they’re truly alone in this quiet alcove, where it’s enough to simply exist.</p><p>Bellamy steal glances at Clarke’s shiny painted lips, the pale slope of her neck, and a creamy expanse of thigh. Even that is sweet, perfect torture.</p><p>Then the bubble bursts with her phone ringing. Clarke grimaces as she answers. “Hello? Yeah, hey Raven. We’re still here. Okay. Bye.”</p><p>“They’re going to Exodus,” she explains. “She wants to know if we’re coming.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees. “Let’s go.”</p><p>Clarke’s eyes widen. “Wait. Really?”</p><p>He throws their trash out in the bin and dusts his hands off on his jeans. “Yes. I want to go. It’ll take my mind off everything.”</p><p>He doesn’t blame Clarke for being shocked. Bellamy hasn’t voluntarily gone to nightclubs for a good time since he was twenty-two. Even when they were dating, he mostly went for her sake because Clarke loved dancing.</p><p>Clubs are for people seeking hook-ups. He went after they broke-up years ago to get shitfaced and screw anonymous strangers. Those were dark days with memories Bellamy would rather forget.</p><p>But now Bellamy wants to go for a different reason. He thinks the atmosphere might be a better distraction than wallowing in front of his television. Honestly, he wants to be around Clarke for longer too and he loves watching her dance.</p><p>They meet the others in front of the bar. Bellamy has to endure Harper fussing over him and Raven poking around for details about his split with Echo. He’s rescued by Clarke tugging him away to her car and saying they’ll meet everyone at the club.</p><p>Unfortunately, Murphy and Emori invite themselves into the backseat. They’re too drunk to drive.</p><p>Bellamy is still annoyed with Murphy from before. “Why couldn’t you carpool with Harper and Monty? They weren’t drinking and their car is bigger!”</p><p>Emori boos at this idea and Murphy adds, “All they talk is about baby stuff. They’ll kill our buzz. Just focus on the road, Princess,” he directs at Clarke, smirking. “We won’t bother you.”</p><p>Bellamy is bothered. In the backseat, Murphy and Emori spend the drive sucking face and groping each other. It isn’t soon enough when they arrive at Exodus.</p><p>Clarke laughs quietly at the face Bellamy makes at her when they exit the car. They walk together to find their friends in line. By the time they’re stamped and let in, he’s craving alcohol to get him through the night.</p><p>“Hitting the bar,” Bellamy whispers into Clarke’s ear and waits for her order. The others are searching for a space for their group. Bellamy leaves them to navigate through the club of pulsing lights, packed bodies, and loud music.</p><p>He starts throwing back his drink as soon as it’s in his hands. Being the sober one around drunk people is obnoxious. Bellamy is drinking his second vodka and club soda when he reaches Clarke, sliding in beside her and hands her the martini.</p><p>Murphy snorts loudly. “You just got your wifey’s drink, huh? Screw the rest of us.”</p><p>Bellamy smirks. “That’s right.”</p><p>It’s too late that Murphy’s words register. He let his drunk friend push his buttons. Thankfully, Clarke doesn’t seem bothered by the comment.</p><p>He finishes off his second drink, then reaches for one of the Lemon Drop shots on the table.</p><p>Bellamy is licking the sugar off his lips when he peers up and catches Clarke’s lingering stare at his mouth.</p><p>His better judgment has been shut up by alcohol. Bellamy doesn’t hesitate to lean in, nudging his nose against her warm cheek. “See something you like, Princess?”</p><p>Clarke shudders. He can feel her body’s shiver pressed so close to her. She tips her head back to meet his eyes, hers searching his.</p><p>She reaches for her martini glass instead of responding, much to his disappointment. Bellamy watches her swallow, closely following the bob of her throat. An ache burns in his gut to lick and nibble at her neck.  </p><p>Bellamy winds a loose blonde curl around his finger. “Dance with me?” he asks her lowly.</p><p>Clarke bites her bottom lip, looking unsure only for a moment before nodding. He stands up from the table and helps her to her feet.</p><p>Most of their friends have already hit the dance floor. Bellamy laces Clare’s smaller fingers through his as he pushes through the crowd to find an open space for them. He spins Clarke outward, her black skirt fanning, and twirls her into his chest.</p><p>Clarke lands softly against him, her back pressed to his front. Bellamy reaches for her hips, resting his hands on her waist as they find their rhythm and move together.</p><p>She tilts her head up to look at him. “What’s gotten into you?”</p><p>“Vodka.”</p><p>Clarke huffs, rolling her eyes. “You haven’t danced with me in <em>years</em>.”</p><p>“Looks like we haven’t lost our rhythm, Princess.”</p><p>The club’s lights make it difficult to tell, but Bellamy thinks he sees a pink blush on Clarke’s cheeks. She’s adorable. He nuzzles the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her floral shampoo.</p><p>Clarke stiffens in his arms. She turns around so they no longer moving together. He doesn’t understand her expression.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>She forces a weak smile. “Nothing. I’m gonna grab another drink.”</p><p>Clarke disappears into the crowd before he can call her out. Something is wrong.</p><p>Bellamy stands there awkwardly amongst the grinding couples. He doesn’t want to dance without Clarke.</p><p>Something thumps the back of his head.</p><p>“Ow!” Bellamy finds Raven beside him, wearing a scowl and a fierce glare. “What the fuck, Reyes?”</p><p>Her lip curls at him. “You’re drunk.”</p><p>“Hardly,” he scoffs. “Are you <em>judging </em>me right now? We’re all drunk! Except for Harper. Whatever. What’s the problem?”</p><p>“You better not be screwing with Clarke,” she snaps.</p><p>Bellamy gapes at her, completely lost. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“That’s what it <em>looks </em>like, Blake! You broke up with Echo five minutes ago and now you’re feeling Clarke up. Can’t you find someone else to fuck? Not your ex-girlfriend, maybe?”</p><p>His buzzed mind takes a minute to catch up. Then Raven’s anger makes sense. If Clarke thinks the same thing, her weird reaction makes sense too and he feels like a huge asshole.</p><p>“That’s not what I’m doing!” Bellamy protests. “And I don’t want someone else. I love her.”</p><p>Raven stares him down until she realizes he means it. Her venomous glare softens. “That’s why you broke up with Echo. You still love her.”</p><p>Bellamy just nods. He’s distracted by looking for Clarke. He can’t have her thinking he was using her like that.</p><p>Raven grabs him. “Bellamy, listen. You should give her some space.”</p><p>“I’ve given her plenty of space! We had six years of space.”</p><p>She pushes herself in front of him, blocking his view of the club. Her dark eyes are serious. “This is the wrong time. If you want to get back together, you need to wait.”</p><p>“I just want to talk to her,” he argues.</p><p>“Please,” Raven scoffs. “You two were practically dry-humping on the dance floor. Now Clarke’s freaked out. She thinks you were committed to Echo. She doesn’t even know why you broke up!”</p><p>“Then let me explain it to her!”</p><p>“Not here,” she says firmly. “Not when you’ve been drinking. Not when you’ve avoided her for two weeks and then suddenly start feeling her up.”</p><p>Raven’s words and their wisdom slowly sink in. She’s right. Bellamy realizes how this must look and feel to Clarke, if other people can see it that way.</p><p>He’s desperate to find her and explain. But Bellamy forces himself to take a few breaths. This isn’t about him. This is about Clarke. She’s the love of his life and he’s already lost her once. He shouldn’t rush through this.</p><p>There will be a time and place for him to hear how she feels. It should be special and private. He has to rein in his impatience. Of course, Bellamy can wait. He waited six years for her to come back.</p><p>Bellamy nods and Raven releases her tight grip on his arm. “Can you find her? Make sure she’s okay?”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>He heads to the bar for a bottle of water. Time to sober up.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A lifetime and a blink of an eye. That how long the next two months feel.</p><p>He works through his funk, slowly. Starting with basketball once a week, making the effort to meet up with his friends.</p><p>He apologies to Clarke for making her uncomfortable after the club night. She forgives him gracefully. </p><p>The next step is harder. Burying his awakened feelings and being her friend. He invites Clarke out with him to redecorate his apartment. She has better taste than him and the place is looking dull. She ends up painting a beautiful design on his living room walls, birds and trees, that brightens the room.</p><p>At the end of October, he goes trick-or-treating with Clarke and Madi. Clarke’s daughter wants to be the fearsome dragon, so Bellamy helps sew the costume for her and Clarke paints her face. Bellamy dresses up as the princess at Madi’s command, wearing a silver tiara.</p><p>The weeks go by and he starts to feel like himself again. Bellamy didn’t anticipate how being single again would affect him. He has to make peace with how things ended with Echo and the parts that were his fault.</p><p>Then he receives her postcard in the mail. Echo went home to her parents in Wisconsin for an overdue visit. Now she’s traveling. Her postcard from Scotland reads that she’s enjoying her new independence and figuring out what she wants out of life.</p><p>Bellamy calls Clarke that night as he’s cooking dinner for himself. He tells her about the postcard and his relief that Echo seems okay, happy even.</p><p>They’re a week away from the holiday break at school. Christmas is approaching and Clarke fills him in on what presents Madi wants.</p><p>The holidays always put him in an odd mood, being estranged from Octavia, but this year he tries to pay more attention to the good: the amazing friends he just had a Friendsgiving with at Monty and Harper’s and the teaching job he loves.</p><p>“You can hide Madi’s presents here,” he offers. “Where she won’t be able to snoop for them.”</p><p>“She’s a sneaky one,” Clarke says and sighs. “Yes, thank you. That’d be perfect.”</p><p>“Speaking of my place…” Bellamy tries for a nonchalant segue. “Why don’t you come over for this weekend? I haven’t gotten the chance to cook you dinner yet.”</p><p>“Hmm. That’s true. Is this a special occasion?”</p><p>Bellamy’s pulse lurches. She’s teasing. She doesn’t suspect what he’s planning, but he’s still nervous.</p><p>He clears his throat. “It is.”</p><p>“Oh.” Clarke’s breath catches. “Uh, ok. I’m off on Friday. I can come over then.”</p><p>“That’s perfect.”</p><p>Bellamy’s nerves are shot on Friday. His mind is on his dinner with Clarke. His students can tell, giggling as he forgets important dates and drops his supplies.</p><p>When he gets home that afternoon, he thoroughly cleans the apartment. He sets up the dining area in what he hopes is a romantic atmosphere, putting Clarke’s favorite bottle of champagne on ice. It takes him the longest time to light the tea candles he has set up around the room.</p><p>Bellamy has a quick shower while the food is cooking. Considering his expertise last time, he texts Miller to consult him on what he should wear. After laughing at him, Miller suggests a nice black shirt and <em>not </em>his worn boots.</p><p>Everything is going smoothly and Bellamy thanks the gods for that. This is too important.</p><p>Clarke arrives at 8 o’clock. He swallows his nerves before he answers the door. She’s wearing a navy blue collared dress. Her hair is pinned up, a few wavy strands framing her face.</p><p>“Hi,” she greets and then blurts, “I’m nervous.”</p><p>Bellamy laughs. The knot of nerves in his stomach dissipates. “Why are you nervous?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she laughs too as she steps inside, the door shutting behind her. “You were being cryptic. I don’t know what to expect here.”</p><p>He leads her into the dining room where her voice trails off. Bellamy waits, anticipation twisting inside of him for her reaction.</p><p>The room is dim, lit by the faint glow of tea candles on the table and lined up on the window sill. He placed a light blue table cloth beneath their spread of food. The centerpiece is a vase of white orchids, her favorite flower.</p><p>“Bellamy…” She sounds breathless. “What is this?”</p><p>He takes a shuddering breath. “I wanted this to be special. Because you’re so special to me, Clarke and I have to show you that. You deserve to be shown that every day.”</p><p>Clarke shakes her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”</p><p>Bellamy approaches her, taking her hands in his. He brushes his thumb gently across her soft skin. “I love you. I’m in love with you, Clarke. I loved you before when we just kids and I love you now, more than I thought possible.”</p><p>She says nothing, her lips parted open as tears trickle down her cheeks.</p><p>“I want to be with you,” Bellamy continues softly. “I want us to be a family. You, me, and Madi.”</p><p>Clarke squeezes her eyes shut. He gives her time to make sense of this, although he doesn’t understand how she can’t see it.</p><p>“What—what about—”</p><p>“It’s over. God, Princess, it was over the second I saw you in the Emergency Room. I felt alive again after six years. You’re my heart. You’ve <em>always</em> been my heart. I love you and all I need to know if there’s a chance we can—”</p><p>Clarke kisses him, silences his words with the eager press of her lips.</p><p>He could laugh at the happiness and relief that erupts inside him. She loves him too. Still. </p><p>Bellamy parts his lips to kiss her back, taste her, welcome her home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! </p><p>Here's my <a href="http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6f0NOzIsAnPwWvwtWPgbJd">playlist</a> for this story.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. you're calling me home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! Thanks so much for supporting this story. It means a lot to me. </p><p>I hope this update can make this hiatus a little more bearable. We're getting that explicit rating for this chapter 😉  Oh and there's some fluff too. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>“The food is gonna get cold,” Bellamy murmurs in between deep, heady kisses.</p><p>Clarke groans. She doesn’t want to stop. It would take the end of the world to rip her apart from him right now.</p><p>All she feels is <em>Bellamy</em>. His large hands gripping her waist, clutching her hair, his cologne’s rich scent in her lungs and his taste on her tongue.</p><p>Their lips chase each other lazily. She doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing. Long enough for their frenzied passion to melt into bliss and languid touches.</p><p>Vaguely, she registers that her back is pushed against the wall. Her knees cradle Bellamy’s hips as he stands between her legs, the material of her dress barely reaching her upper thighs.</p><p>Her hands have undone the buttons on Bellamy’s shirt, leaving the planes of his chest exposed for her to run her fingers over.</p><p>It’s only the thought of Bellamy’s effort being wasted that gets to her. He prepared this meal and beautiful set up for them to enjoy.</p><p>She pulls away with great reluctance. Their heavy breaths fill the air. Bellamy nudges his nose against hers, grinning widely.</p><p>Clarke touches his cheek, her fingers tender on his warm skin. “I dreamt about this, you know. When I was gone, I dreamt about us being a family and you forgave me. That’s all I wanted.”</p><p>Bellamy turns his face to press a soft kiss on her inner wrist. His deep brown eyes gaze at her lovingly. “I want to give you everything you want.”</p><p>“This is what I want,” she tells him and smiles. “You. And those garlic potatoes.”</p><p>He laughs breathlessly before setting her down on her feet. Bellamy gets to work re-buttoning his shirt while she fixes her dress back into place.</p><p>She can imagine what they look like. Horny teenagers instead of adults. Her hair is a tousled mess that she has to finger-comb and Bellamy’s doesn’t look better, mussed by her passion.</p><p>Her eyes fall on the shape of his arousal, visible through his dark jeans and Clarke bites her lip. Fresh desire crackles in her veins. She’s already so wet for him.</p><p>Bellamy turns away, muttering about opening the bottle of champagne. She has to fight the urge to drag him back to her.</p><p><em>Later. </em>They have a romantic evening planned and Clarke <em>is</em> starving.</p><p>She relights some of the candles that have blown out while he pours the champagne. When her arousal has cooled down, Clarke is touched again by the effort he clearly put into this just for her.</p><p>Conversation is put on hold as they dig into their delicious food. She has so many questions though. What brought this on? What happened with Echo? Did he really mean he wants to be a <em>family</em> with Madi? That’s a huge commitment.</p><p>Bellamy’s voice interrupts her worrying. “I can <em>hear </em>you thinking,” he teases and then asks, softer, “What’s wrong?”  </p><p>Clarke sighs, reaching for her glass. “I’m overthinking as usual. Ignore me. I don’t want to ruin the mood.”</p><p>Bellamy frowns, holding her gaze. “You can ask me anything, Clarke.”</p><p>Frustration simmers inside her. Why can’t she just <em>be </em>here with Bellamy? Her mind won’t let her jump in without a care in the world. Maybe because she’s not seventeen anymore and she knows better. She knows what she has to lose.</p><p>She asks the first thing on her mind. “Why now? Why all of a sudden did you change your mind about us?”</p><p>His mouth quirks in what she thinks is amusement. “It’s not all of a sudden. Well, to you maybe it is. But I’ve known for a while. Probably longer than I was willing to admit to myself. Once I did though, I had to break up with Echo.”</p><p>Well, that answers her next question. “You...you broke up with her because of me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Bellamy says simply.</p><p>There’s a pause that carries the weight of the world in it. The enormity of what he just said hits Clarke right in the chest. He ended his relationship, his attempt to move on, because of <em>her. </em></p><p>The primary emotion that washes over her is guilt. She doesn’t deserve this, deserve him. Clarke is the one that broke his heart.</p><p>But, she reminds herself that this is Bellamy’s decision. She didn’t ask him to choose her. He did that on his own. Just like she chose to reject a life with Lexa in Polis on the chance to be with him. Neither of them could truly move on from each other.</p><p>“It was inevitable after you came home, Clarke. If there was even a small chance that we could be together again…I couldn’t ignore that. I couldn’t be with anyone else.”</p><p>Clarke’s throat squeezes at his response. She takes a moment to find her voice. “That’s why I ended my engagement with Lexa. I couldn’t marry someone that wasn’t <em>you</em>.”</p><p>That’s the first time she’s admitted that to him. Bellamy stares at her as her explanation sinks in, his nostrils flaring slightly. Emotions spark like lightning through his eyes, too quick for her to decipher everything he’s feeling.</p><p>“Christ,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? You’ve been holding on that to for what? Five months?”</p><p>Clarke’s cheeks warm with a guilty flush. “I couldn’t, Bellamy. You were with Echo. And you were upset with me. How could I say that?”</p><p>He looks away, rubbing at his jaw for a moment. Then he sighs heavily. “Yeah, you’re right. I just wished we hadn’t wasted so much time.”</p><p>“It wasn’t a waste,” she disagrees. “We needed that time to get to know each other again.”</p><p>Bellamy gives her a small smile. “Well, if it brought us here, I guess I can’t regret it.” He studies her. “Anything else on your mind?”</p><p>“Did you mean what you said? About being a family with Madi?”</p><p>“Of course I did.”</p><p>A frown starts pulling at the corner of her lips. “That’s a huge responsibility. More than I ask you to take on just to be with me—”</p><p>“You’re not asking me,” Bellamy cuts in softly. “Look, I care about Madi. Ultimately, it’s up to her what kind of relationship we have. I’m telling you I’m all in. We’re going to figure the rest out, okay?”</p><p>He reaches over to rub at her tense neck and shoulders. His thumb strokes the back of her neck. Clarke releases a breath, letting his touch comfort her and unclench her muscles.</p><p>“I want this to work,” Clarke admits in a quiet, vulnerable tone. “More than anything. I’m scared it’s going to fall apart before we get the chance.”</p><p>Bellamy scoots his chair over to be closer to her. He folds her into his arms, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. She nuzzles into his chest, swallowing back the overwhelmed tears that rise up.</p><p>“We won’t let it fall apart. We’re going to take this one day at a time. I’m scared too. But that means we have something worth protecting. And we’re gonna fight like hell to protect it.”</p><p>“I love you,” Clarke says against his chest, laughing wetly. “I love your speeches and I love that you always know what to say to calm me down.”</p><p>She tilts her head back and Bellamy leans down to meet her lips. He tastes like her favorite champagne, rich and sharp with a hint of citrus. Her tongue dips into his mouth, a soft moan escaping her as their kiss deepens.</p><p>Her affection and love for this wonderful man is fizzing through her veins, turning her drunk on him. Clarke doesn’t want to spend another second not being close to him.</p><p>She breaks away again to pant for breath. Bellamy draws his hungry, wet kisses under her ear, nipping slightly in his path down her throat.</p><p>Clarke’s head falls back as she forgets what she meant to say, forgets her name, while Bellamy sucks a sensitive point on her neck.</p><p>She reaches for the button on his shirt when she can and he seems to understand.</p><p>Desire flickers in the depths of his dark eyes. His pupils are blown wide. She can feel how hard he is for her sitting in his lap.</p><p>Bellamy holds her heated gaze and he smirks. There’s a trace of his younger self in that smirk, boyish and cocky.</p><p>It makes Clarke grind down in his lap, rocking deliberately over his erection. The friction is hot, the pressure hitting her clit in just the right way.</p><p>Bellamy lets out a groan at her movements, his features twisting with pleasure. He stands up with her gathered in his arms.</p><p>She winds her legs around him, her kisses growing hotter and desperate with the arousal pulsing in her cunt. His hands grip her ass tightly, trying as furiously as she is to climb into each other’s skin.</p><p>Their impatience burns between them like a struck match. His shirt is torn off in their stumble out of the dining room.</p><p>“Where—” he gasps.</p><p>“I don’t care,” Clarke says, tugging his bottom lip with her teeth. “Anywhere. I need you.”</p><p>She pays no mind to where they are. There is months’ worth of sexual tension mounted between them and ready to erupt.</p><p>Suddenly, her dress is being tugged over her head before she’s lowered onto a thick carpeted floor. Bellamy leans over, shirtless and gorgeous, and all she cares about is getting her hands back on him.</p><p>The space they’re in is dim, the only light emitting from the candles in the other room and a faint glow spilling in from the windows.</p><p>Clarke’s eyes adjust slowly to the sight of Bellamy above her, on his knees, the moonlight cast over his torso.</p><p>He’s filled out some, his shoulders broader than they were before. He has lost his defined abs to time, his stomach a soft swell. A thatch of dark hair disappears into his thicker waistband. He feels bigger on top of her, strong and sturdy, and fuck, that’s hot.</p><p>Her fingers fisted through his curls, Clarke drags his mouth back to hers. She hears the clink of his belt and his zipper before his jeans are kicked away. Then Bellamy is laying his nearly naked body on top of hers and it’s heaven, warm skin against skin.</p><p>Lost in their passionate kisses and the haze of desire, Clarke almost forgets to be self-conscious. Six years have passed since Bellamy has seen her naked.</p><p>She remembers with a jolt when he unclips her bra and leans back to look at her.</p><p>Her body has changed too since the last time they slept together. Padded fat around her belly and thighs. Dark stretch marks on her hips and her breasts. Her pubic hair grown out natural. She doesn’t have the slender, tall form of her recent ex, that’s for sure.</p><p>“What are you doing, Princess?” Bellamy asks her, watching her cross her arms defensively over her stomach. “You’re perfect.”</p><p>Clarke scoffs. “Please. I’m twice the size I was when you met me.”</p><p>Bellamy sits back on his knees, his expression serious. “You were seventeen and you were a beautiful girl,” he admits. “Now…”</p><p>She lets him take her hands and place her arms beside her head. Bellamy looks his fill while she tries not to squirm.</p><p>There are damn more important things than looks. Clarke knows this. It’s just hard not to compare herself when his other ex-girlfriend could be a model.</p><p>Bellamy’s breathing quickens. There’s no faking the hunger or lust in his eyes. He drinks in the sight of her naked body like he’s had a taste of the gods’ ambrosia and he needs more.</p><p>He makes her feel desirable and sexy. A goddess among men.</p><p>He shakes his head slowly. “Now, you’re a <em>woman</em>,” he says huskily. “A fucking sexy, gorgeous woman, Clarke.”</p><p>Leaning his head down, Bellamy places a kiss to her breast. He flicks his tongue over the hardening nipple, drawing the peak into his mouth to suckle at.</p><p>“Oh god,” Clarke moans, arching her back closer to him. “<em>Bell</em>.”</p><p>Her eyes slip closed. With the suction of his lips, pleasure tugs in between her legs. He lavishes each nipple with his soft, wet tongue and fondles her other breast with his hand.</p><p>She had forgotten how skilled Bellamy was at this—never in a rush or skipping on foreplay. The memories are roaring back to her now. It all feels so good and makes her greedy for more.</p><p>Clarke sits up and Bellamy leans back to give her room. His arousal is all over him, visible in his flushed cheeks and tented boxers, but he still glances at her in concern.</p><p>“You good here?”</p><p>She smirks. “We’re not moving. In fact, I don’t want to be able to move after you fuck me right, Bell.”</p><p>Bellamy inhales sharply before a grin stretches his mouth. “Hmm. My dirty girl knows what she wants, huh?”  </p><p>She reaches for his black boxers to pull off his hips. When his erection springs free, Clarke cups her hand around him, lightly squeezing around his hard flesh. The sound Bellamy makes turns her on more.</p><p>In between pumping his cock in her tight fist, Clarke murmurs to him, “I want you. You’re so hot, Bellamy. Does this feel good?”</p><p>She twists her wrist on the upstroke, how she remembers he likes. Her thumb circles over the sensitive, darkened head. Beads of precome seep out and she uses that to slick her palm as she strokes him, long and firm.</p><p>Bellamy jerks into her grip, his thighs spasming, and lets out a hiss. “Christ, babe. Yeah, like that.”</p><p>The pleasure wrapped in Bellamy’s rough voice makes her even wetter. She loves making him feel good, hearing his breathing turn uneven, more than she cares about getting herself off. It’s intoxicating to watch the man she loves enjoy himself.</p><p>Of course, being the kind of selfless, attentive partner he is, Bellamy wants the same for her.</p><p>He gently nudges her hand away and lowers her onto the carpet. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” he explains before laying a kiss on her throat.</p><p>Clarke tips her head back, no longer self-conscious about how she looks spread out underneath him. Her pulse quickens in anticipation as Bellamy trails his lips down her chest to her navel, lower and lower, leaving behind goosebumps in his wake.</p><p>He spreads her legs, nipping at the soft skin of her inner thighs. The rough scrape of his beard feels foreign and strangely exciting brushing against her.</p><p>His breath teases her, hitting her sensitive lips and has her squirm. Finally, Bellamy lowers his mouth to her cunt. He kisses her, laps at the slickness of her arousal, runs the flat of his tongue up to her clit.</p><p>Clarke moans helplessly, her fingers digging into the carpet. She’s on another plane of bliss while her clit is prodded and sucked on. Her breaths come heavy and strained, gasping out Bellamy’s name.</p><p>He chuckles against her. “Feels good, Princess?”</p><p>He’s playfully smug, knowing she can’t speak. Bellamy fits his palms under her ass, pulling her closer, onto his mouth. Echoes of Clarke’s pleasured cries bounce off the walls as he eats her out with raved hunger.</p><p>Her orgasm starts in her twitching cunt and rolls through her body with the sudden force of an earthquake. Clarke is breathless, her voice stolen from her, as the pleasure makes her writhe and tremble on the floor.</p><p>Bellamy licks her through her climax. She doesn’t realize her hand is crushing his until it’s over. She goes to push her sweaty hair out of her face and has to let go out his hand.</p><p>Her face and chest are flushed with heat. Clarke hasn’t had an intense orgasm like that in a good while. Her legs are still shaking.</p><p>Bellamy lays down next to her on his side. He brushes her hair back, kissing her shoulder.</p><p>“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”</p><p>Clarke smiles lazily. “Come here.”</p><p>She kisses him, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck. He tastes like her when their tongues brush together. Clarke fits her hand in between them to palm his erection.</p><p>He lets out a deep moan as she jerks his cock. He’s hot in her hand, the glide slick from his precome. All from touching her, going down on her. She doesn’t doubt Bellamy’s word, but the proof of his attraction to her is gratifying.</p><p>Bellamy rolls over her, raised on his arms and takes himself into his hand. He breaks their kiss to peer down at her, his pupils wide. “Condom?”</p><p>Clarke shakes her head. “I’m on the pill.”</p><p>Her hips arch upward enticingly, giving her most heated look to convey how much she needs him inside her right now.</p><p>He hooks her legs around his waist, spreads her open for him to thrust inside.</p><p>She’s wet from her orgasm, making it easier to take his cock again after all these years. Bellamy is bigger than anyone else she’s been with and there’s always the aching stretch that accompanies him burying inside her.</p><p>She moans softly at being filled by him. Nothing compares to this, the hot smooth glide of his cock and her walls embracing him.</p><p>Then there’s the suspended moment when their eyes meet. They’re as close as they can physically be, intimately joined. Bellamy leans over her, his nose grazing hers, and their heavy breaths fill the quiet.</p><p>Emotion rises in Clarke’s throat as they gaze deeply at each other. His fingers are tender on her cheek, a loving caress. This is coming home. This is the world falling away as Clarke loses herself in the love of her life’s arms.</p><p>Clarke thought sex with Bellamy might be awkward. They’ve been with different partners over the years. He’s changed in so many ways and she has too. It’s only natural for that to translate into bed.</p><p>But the connection between them runs deeper than surface level changes. At their core, they’re the same. They find their rhythm as easy as breathing.</p><p>“<em>Clarke</em>,” Bellamy whispers huskily, nuzzling her neck. “You feel so good, Princess. God, you’re incredible.”</p><p>Moans spill out of her in time with his deep strokes. Clarke runs her hands down the shifting muscles of his back, her legs locked around him.</p><p>Her thighs squeeze his waist with every angled thrust at the perfect spot, pleasure rippling through her.  </p><p>“Oh, Bell, right there,” she gasps, “right there, yes!”</p><p>He snaps his hips harder, listening to her high-pitched cries.</p><p>Bellamy’s intense eyes bore into her, liquid heat, watching her pant and writhe on his cock like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.</p><p>She feels the same way looking up at him. Bellamy looks hot as he fucks her, his curls wild and sticking his forehead, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his brown skin. The muscles in his stomach and thighs clench with his movements.</p><p>“You’re so hot,” Clarke says into his ear, her fingers gripping his hair. “I missed this. Missed <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Bellamy groans in reply before his mouth surges onto hers. They kiss messily, their breaths escaping in gasps. Her fingers tighten through his curls to pull him closer, deeper.</p><p>She’s going to come again. Her cunt pulses around him and Clarke whimpers. “Oh, god. I’m close.”</p><p>“Come for me, baby,” Bellamy urges her. “Come on my cock. Let me feel you.”</p><p>His deep, gruff voice follows her into orgasm. Her body shudders as bliss spirals out from her core. She’s consumed by it. Clarke digs her nails into his shoulders, riding out the high.</p><p>"Fuck," Bellamy hisses when her cunt tightens around him. </p><p>He pulls out of her. Before Clarke has the chance to protest, Bellamy moves them onto their sides.</p><p>She feels the damp warmth of his chest pressed to her back, spooning her, his hard dick nudging the curve of her ass. He hitches her leg on the outside of his and pushes inside her. </p><p>"Oh," Clarke moans throatily, her head falling back onto his shoulder. </p><p>Bellamy is deep in this position, rolling his hips into her. He cups her breasts while he thrusts in a building rhythm, tweaking her pointed nipples between his fingers. </p><p>"This what you wanted, Princess?" Bellamy murmurs, squeezing her. "Me fucking you until you can't move, yeah?" </p><p>"<em>Yes</em>," she cries, reaching behind her to cling onto his neck. "Yes, yes." </p><p>She's barely come down from the last when another orgasm flares inside her, quick and sharp. </p><p>Clarke rocks her ass back into Bellamy's thrusts, chasing the pleasure. His low moans mix in with her cries. Later, she'll remember to be grateful for the empty apartment with all of the noise they're making. </p><p>She kneads her throbbing clit to get that final push over the edge. Clarke comes hard, toes curling into the floor, her lips parted open in breathless ecstasy. </p><p>Bellamy's fingers clench around her hip as he comes too. His deep, satisfied groan fills her ears. Then she feels the warmth seep in between her legs and his body melts against hers. </p><p>They lie there quietly for a minute, coming down, bodies cooling. Bellamy's breath stirs her hair, his hands resting loosely over her stomach.</p><p>Clarke closes her eyes, perfectly comfortable and spent. At the moment, she <em>is</em> too tired to move. </p><p>Carefully, Bellamy slips out of her. He brushes a gentle kiss to the back of her neck before disentangling himself. </p><p>"Be right back," he whispers. </p><p>She's almost fallen asleep when he returns. Bellamy kneels beside her with a damp washcloth. He nudges her legs apart and cleans her up as Clarke watches him through heavy-lidded eyes. Affection wells up inside her. </p><p>He tosses the washcloth aside after, to be dealt with later, and lies down beside her. </p><p>Clarke turns over to face him, kissing him softly. "I love you. That was amazing." </p><p>Bellamy's mouth pulls into a tired, half-smile. "Yeah? Did it measure up to six years of expectations?" </p><p>He sounds glib, but she detects the insecurity under his tone. Clarke doesn't understand where it comes from. He has nothing to prove, not to her. </p><p>"It was better," she tells him honestly. "I thought about being here with you so many times. It's better because it's <em>us</em>, not just inside my head." </p><p>Clarke rests her head on Bellamy’s chest, her fingers strumming absently over his stomach. They get the quilt from the couch to throw over them. Her mind is quiet, enjoying the afterglow and peace of listening to his steady heartbeat. </p><p>These moments are so rare, stolen from the regular chaos and unpredictability of life. She tells herself to savor the peace while it lasts. </p><p>It's hard to forget about the last time she felt this safe and loved. She had no idea what was coming, that Finn was going to haunt her and there would be demons she couldn't escape from.</p><p>A kernel of fear resides in her heart for it to happen again. Or something like it, something trying to disrupt her happiness with Bellamy. </p><p>“Clarke.”</p><p>Bellamy’s stare is intense when she meets his eyes. It’s a different kind of intensity to when they were making love. This is vulnerable and pleading. “Don’t leave me again.”</p><p>Her breath hitches. Clarke blinks away sudden tears. “I won’t.”</p><p>Bellamy's thoughts are an echo of hers. Neither of them can help dwelling on the past. That's the curse of growing old, experiencing life, and shredding youthful innocence. You realize that there is no promise of everlasting happiness. Even the people you love most can hurt you. </p><p>“I can’t go through that again,” Bellamy says, his voice cracking through the middle. “I can’t.”</p><p>Tears break free from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. She hurts for the way she hurt Bellamy and the way she can’t do anything about the past. Her mistakes are hers to carry.</p><p>Bellamy wipes away a tear with his thumb, his expression creasing with pain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Clarke. I just…I have to know if this is real. I <em>need</em> it to be real.”</p><p>Clarke lays her hand on his chest, over his heart. “It is. I can promise you that I won’t run. I won’t hide from you or from us. Whatever might happen, we’ll go through it together. I learned to live without you, Bell. I don’t want to do that again either.”</p><p>He nods. She can see the struggle in him, slightly soothed by her words. Wanting to trust her and being able to are two different things. The pain they’ve inflicted on each other hasn’t magically healed in a single romantic evening.</p><p>Bellamy is afraid she’s going to break his heart again. Clarke has fears too. The specter of his ex-girlfriend lingers in this house. There are so many sensitive topics they haven’t talked about yet. But they’re still making a choice to let each other in, to forgive and to trust.</p><p>Stronger than any fear, Clarke's conviction burns through her to not lose this, not lose <em>him</em>, ever again. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In the morning, Clarke is the first to wake up. The bright light pouring in from the windows stirs her out of sleep. Then, the pressure against her bladder is impossible to ignore.</p><p>She opens her eyes, squinting blearily. The room looks different in the light of day.</p><p>She takes a good look at Bellamy’s fully stocked bookshelf. There’s a circular glass coffee table lined with a few framed photographs. One photo Clarke recognizes from Bellamy’s childhood with him, Octavia and his mother. Another picture seems to be from Monty and Harper’s wedding, their friends all dressed in formal wear.</p><p>Clarke’s muscles scream out in protest when she sits up. Her back doesn’t thank her for sleeping on the ground and the rest of her aches from the rounds of sex. Well, she and Bellamy aren’t seventeen and twenty anymore.</p><p>Clarke glances down at him, still curled up toward her when they were cuddling during the night. Her chest floods with fondness. Bellamy frowns in his sleep, rumbling snores escaping him.</p><p>She kisses his cheek before standing up. After hunting for her underwear, she throws on Bellamy’s shirt from last night, which smells like him, and slips off to the bathroom.</p><p>Bellamy is still sleeping when she comes back, so Clarke grabs her phone. She steps away into the hall to call her mother. Everyone seems to be doing fine over there. She can hear Madi’s excited voice as they make pancakes.</p><p>“So, did you have a nice night?” Abby asks.</p><p>Clarke’s lips tug into a helpless smile. “Yes, very nice. Bellamy made us dinner with some of my favorites. He even got that champagne I like.”</p><p>“Well, he’s always been a romantic,” her mother notes. She doesn’t say it as grudgingly as she would in the past, so Clarke takes it.</p><p>“I can swing by to pick up Madi soon.”</p><p>“There’s no need to rush. We’re fine here.”</p><p>Clarke hesitates. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Abby replies. “It’s no trouble. You know Marcus and I love having her. Enjoy your day, honey.”</p><p>She thanks her mom again and hangs up. Clarke walks back toward the den. She can hear the gurgle of a coffee machine starting from the kitchen. Her thoughts about Bellamy being up are derailed when she comes to a sudden halt.</p><p>Clarke pauses outside the den. Her eyes focus on a detail she missed last night while she and Bellamy were distracted getting each other out of their clothes. On the wall hangs a familiar painting that she completed in Polis.</p><p>She can’t believe it. Can’t make sense of what her painting is doing here at Bellamy’s place. Reaching through her memory, Clarke recalls selling this particular artwork when she was trying to pay for medical school. It was purchased by an anonymous buyer.</p><p>Not anonymous, then. Bellamy.</p><p>“Princess?” Bellamy’s voice calls from the kitchen.</p><p>His footsteps come closer, joining her by the wall. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his hair mussed from sleep.</p><p>Bellamy smiles when he reaches her, his eyes running appreciatively down her body in his black shirt. “God, you look good in that.”</p><p>Clarke ignores his playful tone, gesturing at the wall. “Bellamy, what is this?”</p><p>He sees what she was staring at. His expression shifts, turning sheepish. It’s not a common look on him, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh, I bought your painting.”</p><p>Her eyes widen. “<em>Why</em>?”</p><p>They were broken up when she painted this. She hadn’t spoken to Bellamy in over a year when this sold while she was living in Polis. Never did she imagine her ex-boyfriend would buy her artwork, let alone frame and hang it inside his house.</p><p>Bellamy shrugs. He crosses his arms, caught between being defensive and uncomfortable. “I was proud of you. It’s a beautiful painting, Clarke.”</p><p>Her head shakes in disbelief. “How did you even know I was selling them?”</p><p>“O told me,” he says, which is the last name she expected to come from him. “She knows people in Polis. She was keeping up with you a little. Mostly for my sake.”</p><p>Clarke understands then why he’s uncomfortable. He thinks it makes him look bad, to be concerned about her. He was still angry at her then and heartbroken, but he wanted to know she was doing okay.</p><p>Bellamy has his face turned, not seeing her as Clarke presses a hand to her mouth. She is overwhelmed by him, this protective and forgiving man. She will never, ever take him for granted like she did before.</p><p>“I told her to stop,” Bellamy continues, staring at the floor, “when I started dating Echo. I told her I didn’t care. That was a lie, obviously. She listened, but I think it was because she was pissed at me.”</p><p>Clarke crosses over to him. She turns his chin to meet her eye, tenderly cupping his jaw. “And you hung it on your wall.”</p><p>Her voice shakes, not managing to sound teasing, as she means too.</p><p>Bellamy swallows, his throat rippling. “Yeah. Look, I did it for the same reason you kept that box of us. There was a part of me that still had hope you would come back to me.”</p><p>Clarke cups his face in her hands and kisses him, pouring as much of her heart into this embrace as she can. He has to know how lucky she feels to be loved by him.</p><p>When they break apart, he’s wearing a small, private grin that’s just for her. “What do you want to do today?”</p><p>“Hmm. My mom has Madi. We have nothing but time.” She combs her fingers through his thick, messy curls. “How about a shower?”</p><p>“That’s a good start.”</p><p>Kissing under a spray of hot water in Bellamy’s arms is nice. She enjoys rinsing the soapy suds off his body. Bellamy is meticulous and loving as he washes her hair, working the knots through his fingers. But the best part of their ritual has always been after the shower.</p><p>They’re wrapped in fluffy towels, the room coated in a thick layer of steam. Clarke sits back on the bathroom counter as Bellamy stands between her legs, hands clutching her waist. They’ve gotten easily side-tracked by making out.</p><p>Clarke lightly scratches her fingers over his beard. “Can I shave you, Bell?”</p><p>He pulls back, blinking himself out of a daze.</p><p>She isn’t sure what his response will be. They haven’t done their little ritual in years. Bellamy has grown his facial hair out and he probably likes it like way. She just misses it.</p><p>“I can do just a trim,” she offers.</p><p>Bellamy shakes his head. “Shave all of it.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Yeah. All of it.”</p><p>He gets her a new razor and shaving cream. It’s been so long, Clarke’s hands tremble slightly with nerves. It’s not like Bellamy will be angry with her for accidentally nicking him. No, it feels like more than that.</p><p>This was something sacred between them once. Clarke is nervous about screwing that up.</p><p>Bellamy holds himself perfectly still as she lathers his cheeks. He is so close; she can almost count the freckles on his face.</p><p>His steady breathing filling her ears, the scent of his body wash wrapped around her. The intimacy makes her stomach flutter, even after what they did last night.</p><p>Trust shines in his dark eyes as Clarke presses the razor to his skin. He has one hand anchored on her hip. “I missed this.”</p><p>“Me too,” she murmurs.</p><p>She doesn’t need the ask if he did this with someone else. The truth is a live thing, beating like a pulse in the air. She wouldn’t do this for another man and he wouldn’t dare let someone else do this for him.</p><p>Clarke is tender and careful, rinsing, revealing a smooth patch of brown skin little by little. Time ceases to mean anything in the small bathroom. Bellamy is quiet, eyes soft, watching her work.</p><p>When she’s done, Clarke presses her lips to his cleanly shaven jaw. “There.”</p><p>She leans back to study him. Yes, there he is. The man she first fell in love with. Not in just his revealed face or the beautiful smear of freckles, but the way he looks at her. Her Bellamy.</p><p>After a moment, Bellamy peers around her to see himself in the mirror. He nods in approval at the job she’s done, touching his clean jaw. “Thanks, Princess.”</p><p>“You like it?”</p><p>Bellamy grins. “It’s perfect.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They pull up in front of the townhouse, the engine running. There are several other cars already parked in the driveway.</p><p>Clarke lowers the visor to check her lipstick in the mirror. She doesn’t usually bother with make-up when working at the hospital. The weekends are her excuse to get dolled up, even just to hang out at a friend’s place.</p><p>“You look gorgeous,” Bellamy reassures her.</p><p>She turns to give him a grateful smile. After three weeks, she’s gotten used to seeing his shaved face again. Their friends are going to lose their shit though.</p><p>“Ready?” she asks.</p><p>“It’s not too late to turn back,” Bellamy counters, raising his brows. “We haven’t gone it yet. No one knows we’re here.”</p><p>Clarke laughs. “Nice try. We’re going. Come on.”</p><p>She’s tempted by his suggestion, she’ll admit. Hiding away in their private bubble for the past few weeks has been so nice. They’ve spent practically every free moment together when they’re not at work, staying in on the weekends and being total hermits.</p><p>The only time they went out was the previous Saturday for a park date with Madi. They had a picnic lunch that Clarke packed for them. Her daughter and Bellamy kicked a soccer ball around while she drew a sketch of them, lying on their blanket.</p><p>Other than that, they’ve hardly left Clarke’s apartment. Bellamy has stayed over most nights, only popping out to grab a change of clothes. Thankfully, Madi is innocent enough to believe they’re having sleepovers and that’s why Bellamy is there in the morning for breakfast.</p><p>Eventually, Clarke decided they had to stop ignoring their friends. She accepted the invitation for both of them to come over to Miller and Jackson’s to hang out.</p><p>“This place is nice,” Clarke comments as they walk up the driveway.</p><p>She’s tugging Bellamy behind her by the hand and ignoring his pouting. He didn’t want to come, in favor of ordering take-out and wearing minimal clothing like they’ve done the previous weekends.</p><p>Miller swings open the door for them, eyebrows raised. “Wow. I didn’t things you guys <em>remembered </em>us.”</p><p>“Hilarious,” Bellamy mutters as they cross the threshold.</p><p>Clarke holds out the bottle of wine in apology. “Forgive us. We brought alcohol.”</p><p>Miller lets out a low whistle as he accepts the bottle of vintage wine.</p><p>“They’re back to being an <em>us </em>already,” Murphy mocks loudly from the living room. “What’s next – a couples’ Facebook page?”</p><p>Clarke wrinkles her nose. “Ew. We would never be that tacky.”</p><p>Monty leans over from beside Harper on the couch, peering at them. “So you guys are back together?”</p><p>Bellamy curls his arm around her waist, gazing down at her with a proud grin. “Yeah. We are.”</p><p>Clarke ducks her head, hiding her smile as their friends clap and whistle obnoxiously.</p><p>She glances up to find Murphy saluting her with his can of beer. The smirk he’s wearing looks genuine, despite the snarky commentary. She remembers the night they got drunk together and he was in her corner, encouraging her to win Bellamy back.</p><p>Bellamy kisses her cheek, chuckling to himself, and pulls her into his side. “And we’re going to kick your sorry asses at Pictionary,” he addresses their friends.</p><p>“That’s big talk from a guy that’s missed the last five game nights,” Miller retorts.</p><p>Clarke leaves Bellamy as the trash-talk commences between the guys. She ventures into the kitchen to get herself a drink. Someone’s already opened a bottle of white wine, so she helps herself to a glass.</p><p>“Hey.” Harper joins her in the kitchen, her hazel eyes bright. “I’m really happy for you guys.”</p><p>A smile tugs at Clarke’s lips. This seems to be her involuntary reaction whenever someone brings up her and Bellamy. “Thanks, Harper. I appreciate that.”</p><p>Harper’s grin is slightly mischievous. “I had a feeling you were going to find your way back to each other. It was inevitable.”</p><p>Clarke isn’t conceited enough to believe it was <em>inevitable </em>that they’d get back together. She had to earn Bellamy’s forgiveness. There are still days that she feels unworthy of him. Clarke’s belief lies in the effort both of them have put into repairing their relationship.</p><p>If anything, her love for Bellamy is inevitable. It’s a force bigger than her, a connection that has weathered ten years and long distance. She hasn’t stopped loving him for a single day since he showed up at her parents’ house with that blue corsage.</p><p>He’s just in the next room, but Clarke already misses him. She blames her clinginess on the newness of everything. They have a lot of time to make up for.</p><p>Clarke heads back into the living room to find him. She agreed to spend the night with their friends, but she’s going to do it at Bellamy’s side.</p><p>He’s sitting on the loveseat. There’s enough space beside him for her to squeeze in, but Bellamy tugs her into his lap. He settles his arm snugly around her waist. He must be feeling clingy too. She’s not going to complain.</p><p>Jackson is getting everyone refills on their drinks while Miller sets up the Pictionary game. Their friends’ voices and laughter overlap in the warm, cozy atmosphere.</p><p>“One hour,” Bellamy murmurs into her ear. “Then I’m taking you home.”</p><p>Clarke turns her head to kiss his neck. “Deal.”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. it's the best thing that I'll ever do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi fam! First, thanks so much to the people that reached out. It means a lot that you guys are following this story. </p><p>Second, thank you for voting for For Blue Skies in the Bellarke Fic Awards! This story has been an angsty ride and I love you all for going on it with me. </p><p>This chapter has some of my favorite things: Bellarke fluff, smut, and family reunions. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Her hair gleams like spun gold in the sunlight, spread across the pillow. The morning light trickles in from the window and illuminates her skin, the gentle slope of her nose, the mole above her soft upper lip.</p><p>She is breathtaking. His goddess.</p><p>Clarke reaches out, using the pad of her fingers to trace over his cheeks and down the bridge of his nose. She’s touching his freckles, something she used to do many years ago.</p><p>He watches her, warmth curled in his stomach like a flickering flame. The feeling of bliss is foreign after six years of loneliness and anger, but with every passing day, he’s getting used to it. To waking up <em>happy</em>.</p><p>Her fingers reach his mouth and Bellamy playfully nips at them.</p><p>Clarke laughs, swatting at his chest with her free hand.</p><p>He closes his arms around her waist and rolls onto his back, bringing Clarke on top of him. She lands on his chest, straddling his hips. His smile grows when she shakes her fallen hair out of her eyes and pretends to glare at him.</p><p>“You’re rude,” she says.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” he tells her.</p><p>Clarke presses her lips together, but there’s no hiding the warm light in her eyes. She looks as happy as he feels these days.</p><p>Bellamy still can’t believe he is the cause of that. She’s told him enough over the past few weeks. He and Madi mean the world to her. It’s all she wants, having their little family together.</p><p>It’s everything he’s ever wanted. More than that, actually. Because he never saw Madi coming—the twist in their story, Clarke’s funny, devious, wonderful little girl.</p><p>He loves that little girl more and more every day. Bellamy tells her stories each night as they tuck her in and she looks at him with stars in her trusting blue eyes.</p><p>The way Octavia used to look at him.</p><p>Clarke’s hand cups his jaw, turning his face back to her. She has a concerned pinch between her brows. “Where did you go?”</p><p>Bellamy grimaces at the dark path his thoughts have taken. “I was thinking about O.”</p><p>He’s been doing that a lot lately. It’s like he can’t stop himself from fixating on the missing gap from his perfect happiness.</p><p>Bellamy often wonders if it’s a way of punishing himself. He can’t be 100 percent happy. He’ll have to settle for 85 percent because of the way he let his relationship with his sister fall apart.</p><p>Clarke lightly runs her nails over his jaw, soothing him. “You miss her.”</p><p>“Yes,” he admits, his voice cracking.</p><p>“You can call her,” Clarke says like it’s that simple. When he frowns, she presses on. “Yes, you can, babe. You had a fight. You can work it out. There’s no reason you have to keep suffering.”</p><p>Bellamy raises his brows in surprise. The way his chest flutters when Clarke calls him <em>babe </em>is the opposite of suffering. “I’m not,” he argues.</p><p>Her mouth curls up. “I know your heart, Bellamy Blake. You won’t be at peace if your sister isn’t in your life.”</p><p>She’s right. Clarke is right about so many things. She does know him better than anyone. The state of his relationship with Octavia has been haunting him since their fight. That guilt has kept him up at night. What would their mom say if she knew he let some stupid disagreement come between them?</p><p>Bellamy plays with a strand of her golden hair as he thinks it over. “What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”</p><p>“She will,” Clarke says firmly. “You’re her big brother. She misses you too.”</p><p>That might be true. But his sister’s anger runs deep, almost as deep as her hurt. She couldn’t understand why he was dating Echo. She saw it as him choosing Echo over her, even though that’s the last thing Bellamy wanted. She might not forgive him.</p><p>Clarke leans in, pressing her lips to the worry lines in his forehead. “Just try. You’ll feel better when you try, Bell.”</p><p>He nods. Making the first step in repairing their relationship is a better idea than just feeling guilty about what happened.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m ruining our morning together.”</p><p>Clarke pulls an incredulous face that nearly makes him laugh. “You’re not ruining anything. I want to be here for you.”</p><p>Bellamy smiles. “You’re amazing.”</p><p>She mirrors his grin. “So I’ve been told—by you, about a hundred times.”</p><p>He kisses her, sliding his fingers into her soft hair. Her lips part to let his tongue lap against hers. They kiss deep and slow.</p><p>Clarke lays down on him, her bare breasts pressing against his chest. He feels her nipples tighten as their mouths slide together, tongues brushing in a lazy, pleasurable dance.</p><p>He cups her heavy breast, running his thumb across the hard peak. She moans into their kiss. Bellamy rolls her nipples between his fingers how she likes.  Her soft moans fill his ears and he wants to bottle the sound with her laughter and the way she says his name.</p><p>Clarke starts to rock her hips against him. She stirs his half-hard cock into a straining erection. It feels so good. Her movements are sinful, dragging her silky folds up and down his length, coating him in her wetness.</p><p>“Princess,” Bellamy pants, breaking their kiss. “Tell me what you want.”</p><p>“Fuck me slow, Bell.”</p><p>He rolls her onto her side, facing away from him. Bellamy kisses down the length of her spine. He can’t get enough of her skin. Her scent. Her taste.</p><p>He takes himself into his hand and pushes inside her. He’s embraced by her tight, perfect warmth, inch by inch. Clarke lets out a sigh as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.</p><p>Bellamy wraps his arms around her stomach. “You feel so good.”</p><p>His hips draw back and he moves in slow, steady strokes in and out of her. They exist out of time when they make love like this. Sweet and unhurried, pouring into each other, smoothly blending into one. He becomes aware only of his heartbeat and the rhythmic push and pull of pleasure between them.</p><p>Clarke leans her head back on his shoulder, her lips parted open. “Bellamy,” she moans.</p><p>He kisses her neck, running his hands over her body. “You sound so sexy, babe,” he murmurs against her throat. “I love making you moan.”</p><p>She pushes back against him to meet his deep thrusts. Bellamy whispers to her, knowing Clarke likes to hear him talk in bed. He tells her about her body fitting so perfectly around him, how he never wants to move from being inside her, close to her.</p><p>They build their pleasure up gradually. Bellamy is lost in her, he doesn’t care about finishing. His orgasm rises up unexpectedly. He slides his fingers over Clarke’s swollen clit, listening to her breathing quicken as she gets close.</p><p>“Oh my god,” she gasps, squirming in his arms. “Bell, don’t stop.”</p><p>“Come for me, Princess.”</p><p>Her pussy squeezes around him when she comes. Clarke arches her back, moaning and gripping his hair.</p><p>He loves seeing her consumed by pleasure. Bellamy strokes her clit to make it last as long as possible.</p><p>He follows after her when she’s done, letting his orgasm sweep over him in a blissful tidal wave. Bellamy groans as his hips flex a final time, spilling himself inside her tight, sweet cunt.</p><p>His climax leaves him melted on the mattress. Bellamy takes a minute to catch his breath. Then he kisses Clarke’s shoulder and carefully pulls out of her.</p><p>She turns over and he loses his breath again at her beautiful face. Her eyes are bright, a subtle glow radiating off of her from orgasm. She slides her arms around his neck and gives him a tender kiss.</p><p>“I love you,” Bellamy says as soon as they pull away.</p><p>Clarke smiles, her gaze loving and warm. That look makes him the luckiest man on this planet. “I love you too, Bell.”</p><p>His thumb caresses her flushed cheek. “Let’s grab a shower, yeah?”</p><p>She must want to clean up. But Clarke pouts at him, leaning her head against the pillow. “It’s comfy here. Let’s stay in bed all day instead.”</p><p>He laughs softly. Clarke has never spent the day being lazy in bed unless she was seriously sick. “Oh really? And what about Madi? She might come looking for us, at some point.”</p><p>Clarke sighs. “I guess you’re right.” She toys with his curls, lost in thought for a moment. “We should go on a trip, just the two of us.”</p><p>Bellamy’s eyes widen. That sounds amazing. “Really?”</p><p>She nods. “Just for a few days. A bed and breakfast, maybe. I want to be alone with you.”</p><p>He would love nothing more than to steal her away and escape in a private bubble. No work. No distractions. Just the love of his life and him.</p><p>“I’ll look into it.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bellamy is dreading his free period. The school day seems to be flying by, sped on by his reluctance. Too soon his students rush out the door and leave him in the empty classroom, listening to the frantic thump of his pulse.</p><p>Today is the day. Bellamy has been putting it off long enough. It’s time to take the first step and reach out to his baby sister.</p><p>They haven’t spoken in 10 months. It makes him sick when he thinks on it. He’s been a terrible brother, letting this much time pass. He has his excuses. But there’s just that—excuses.</p><p>The truth is, Octavia knows him too well. He didn’t want to hear her honest remarks about his relationship with Echo. None of their friends would say those things to his face. But Octavia called him out on his hiding, lying to himself. He didn’t want to hear it.</p><p>Bellamy picks up his phone, dread pooling in his gut while the line rings. He hopes she won’t hang up on him.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>He closes his eyes. It’s been too long since he heard his sister’s voice. “Hey, O.”</p><p>An uncomfortable pause rests between them. “Hey,” she answers flatly.</p><p>He doesn’t know where to start. Why does this have to be so hard? She’s his blood. He practically raised her from the day she was born.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says thickly. “I’m sorry it took me this long to call.”</p><p>“Why are you calling?” She sounds curious, not scornful.</p><p>He goes with honesty. “I miss you, O.”</p><p>The pause is longer this time. Bellamy fears she’s gone and hung up on him. He supposes he deserves as much. But then he hears her quiet sniffle.</p><p>“Me too,” Octavia admits. “I have so much to tell you.”</p><p>His mouth curves into a smile. “I want to hear it.”</p><p>She talks to him during the hour of his free period. He listens to every word. Her business is going well. She works as a personal fitness trainer. He’s surprised when Octavia says she recently started seeing one of her clients.</p><p>His sister hasn’t dated anyone in three years. Her boyfriend, Lincoln, died in a deadly fire while he was on the job. Octavia was devastated. Bellamy was there with her during her grief. He worried that she would never heal, never move on. Lincoln was the love of her life.</p><p>Octavia’s voice brightens when she tells him about Levitt. “He was totally clueless when he first came in,” she says, laughing. “He’s like, the total opposite of a macho man. More like a puppy. But he’s improving a lot with my help.”</p><p>“So it’s going well?” He treads carefully. “Seeing each other?”</p><p>“Really well,” she confirms. “He’s sweet, Bell. He treats me great. You’d love him.”</p><p>Bellamy’s heart skips. It sounds like he’s going to get to meet Levitt at some point. “That’s awesome, O. I can’t wait to meet him.”</p><p>“Well, I’ve talked your ear off,” she laughs again. “What’s going on with you?”</p><p>Well, here it goes. “Clarke and I are back together,” he blurts.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Octavia shouts. “Wait. I thought she lived in Polis. And you were seeing…”</p><p>“Clarke moved back here a few months ago.” He clears his throat. “And, uh, Echo and I ended things.”</p><p>“Because of Clarke,” she guesses.</p><p>He can’t help but roll his eyes at her smugness. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t think we were compatible anyway, but Clarke moving back had something to do with it.”</p><p>“Wow. You were pissed at her, though. What happened?”</p><p>He’s running out of time on his free period. Bellamy tries to explain quickly about him and Clarke repairing their relationship, working on their forgiveness. They still haven’t so much to say when he has to hang up before his next class.</p><p>“Call me after the school day,” Octavia demands. “We’ll make plans to meet up.”</p><p>Bellamy’s grin is wide as he agrees. “Okay. Talk to you soon.”</p><p>When his last class lets out, Bellamy heads to his car. He drives into the pick-up line behind the other parents, waiting for Madi. He spots her standing with a few friends in the pick-up area, chatting and giggling. She often leaves him waiting until she’s ready to leave.</p><p>Bellamy uses the time to call his sister again. Their conversation is brief but pleasant. She offers to have him over at her place that weekend and he agrees. He’d say yes to about anything for the chance to see her again.</p><p>They chat about their days for a few minutes. Bellamy boasts proudly about his students. Octavia boasts about her dog, Helios, like a proud parent. He misses that dog.</p><p>Finally, Madi hugs her friends goodbye. She skips over to his car, her purple bookbag bouncing with her, and his chest squeezes fondly at the sight of her. She’s bundled in a puffy coat, her little cheeks pink from the crisp winter air.</p><p>Madi opens the door to let herself into the back seat. “Hi, Bellamy!” she greets happily.</p><p>Bellamy smiles at her. “Hey, bug. Did you have a good day?”</p><p>Madi nods, launching into a recount of what happened at school. He pulls out of the line onto the main road, aware of Octavia still on the line. She waits as patiently as she’s capable of, but he knows his sister’s curiosity is about to burst at hearing this child’s voice.</p><p>“Who is that?” Octavia demands when Madi quiets.</p><p>“Clarke’s daughter.”</p><p>As expected, Octavia gasps. “Clarke has a <em>kid</em>? Holy shit. Wait. You didn’t knock her—”</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Bellamy snaps, halting that question before it finishes. They can talk about this another time. Like when Madi isn’t in the back sit, listening in.</p><p>“Okay. Sheesh. Let me talk to her.”</p><p>Bellamy puts the phone on speaker. He glances at Madi through the rearview mirror. “Madi,” he calls. “Somebody wants to say hi to you.”</p><p>“Hi, Madi,” Octavia says. “I’m Octavia. Bellamy’s sister.”</p><p>Madi’s blue eyes light up. “Aunty O!”</p><p>Bellamy smiles, focusing on the road. He can hear the pleasant surprise in his sister’s voice. “You know about me?”</p><p>Madi babbles to Octavia during the drive. She tells his sister all about the stories she’s heard, both from him and Clarke, about their lives together. Madi talks to Octavia about her day too, already considering her a family member.</p><p>His heart warms listening to them. He parks in front of Clarke’s apartment when they arrive home. She’s at the hospital now and he can’t wait to tell her about this.</p><p>“Bye, Aunty O!” Madi chirps before he turns the speaker off.</p><p>“You have a kid,” Octavia informs him.</p><p>“She’s not—”</p><p>“Family isn’t just blood,” she speaks over his half-hearted explanation. “She talks about you like you’re her dad. Doesn’t shut up about you, actually. You and Clarke didn’t make her biologically, but you’re her parents.”</p><p>Bellamy is quiet. In the backseat, Madi is humming and painting her coloring book. She has her mother’s patience. They’re parked outside, but she doesn’t whine about getting out, content with occupying herself.</p><p>His throat is tight with emotion. Bellamy can’t say much else other than agreeing, “I like to think so.”</p><p>“I’m happy for you, big brother.”</p><p>Bellamy hangs up with her. He discretely wipes away the tears welled in his eyes so Madi won’t see. They’re happy tears, spilling out because his heart is very full.</p><p>He cuts the engine. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go inside.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That Saturday Bellamy makes the drive over to his sister’s place. Clarke was pleased when he told her about their conversation. She said she was proud of him and encouraged him to properly make up with Octavia.</p><p>Bellamy has time to reflect during the drive. He knows they have a difficult conversation lurking in the near future. They have to talk about the distance between them. He has to apologize.</p><p>The navigation guides him to the apartment complex. Another rock to add to his stone wall of guilt. He hasn’t visited his sister’s home in so long, he has to turn to the GPS to get him there.</p><p>Soon the wide brick complex comes into view. Bellamy parks in an empty spot. He takes a deep breath to help his nerves before he dismounts from the car. The frigid January air is merciless and has him burying his hands in his jacket pockets as he walks briskly into the building.</p><p>He climbs the stairs to the third floor, finding the right brown door to knock at. He waits only a handful of seconds. The door swings open like Octavia was waiting for him on the other side.</p><p>Bellamy isn’t sure what to expect. They had a nice talk, but that can’t paint over the nasty argument they got into.</p><p>But Octavia throws herself into his arms before he can cross the threshold. He stumbles back at the sudden force knocking into his chest. Suddenly, there are slender arms squeezing him and a dark head of hair tucked under his chin.</p><p>Bellamy closes his eyes. They hold each other for a while. It feels like they need this.</p><p>Octavia steps away, wearing a watery smile as she wipes her eyes. “It’s good to see you.”</p><p>His breath escapes in a relieved exhale. “You too, O. Thanks for inviting me.”</p><p>They enter the apartment. He’s barely inside when he’s attacked again. This time by Helios. The big dog leaps up at the sight of him and charges for Bellamy’s legs, his tail wagging excitedly.</p><p>Bellamy kneels to pet him, scratching behind his ears. “Hey there, boy. You miss me?”</p><p>He plays with Helios, tossing his toy in a game of fetch. Octavia is moving around the kitchen. He gets the sense they are both pretending to be occupied and avoiding the heavy conversation.</p><p>Octavia brews them coffee. He joins her when the mugs are set on the island, seating himself on a wooden stool. The drink’s warmth is good for thawing out his freezing hands.</p><p>His sister leans against the cabinet, holding her mug. He takes the chance to look at her as they sit in silence. Her hair is shorter, thrown into a ponytail. She’s wearing her typical attire of workout leggings and a cropped tee shirt.</p><p>He’s about to ask about Levitt, just to break the silence, when Octavia speaks. “I’m sorry, Bell.”</p><p>Bellamy frowns. “You—”</p><p>“Please,” she says softly. “You made your apology. Now it’s my turn.” At his slight nod, she goes on. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you about dating Echo. It wasn’t fair. You’ve supported me through so much—through everything, really, and that’s how I repaid you.”</p><p>He stares into his half-drunk mug. His first instinct after many years is to let it go. To swallow his feelings instead of expressing them. They aren’t important. She’s sorry and it’s his responsibility as her brother to forgive her.</p><p>Bellamy wades through those habits. He remembers that he’s allowed to be upset with her. He doesn’t have to brush how he feels aside.</p><p>“That hurt, O,” he confesses quietly. “I know you didn’t care for her. But I was heartbroken after Clarke left. I wanted to move on. She made it easier. I just needed you to accept that, even if you didn’t agree with it.”</p><p>He can see the regret deep in her green eyes. “You’re right. I’m really sorry. You were hurting and I made it about my grudge. I should have been on your side.”</p><p>The old wound closes inside him hearing her say that. He felt alone and abandoned after his break-up. That dark point in his life was made worse when his sister refused to support his attempt at moving on. Octavia seems to realize that now. </p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, too,” Octavia adds. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”</p><p>Bellamy smiles wryly. “Me too.”</p><p>“Stubborn Blake genes. Next time, we need to get over our shit and talk to each other.”</p><p>“Agreed,” he says and takes a sip from his mug.</p><p>Octavia sets hers down. She turns to him, tilting her head and he recognizes the inquiring gleam in her eye. She’s going to poke her nose into his business.</p><p>“So what’s the story? The whole story. How did you and Clarke work <em>your </em>shit out?”</p><p>Bellamy lets her change the subject. He definitely doesn’t mind talking about Clarke and he wants Octavia to be in the loop about his life.</p><p>He starts at the beginning with their chance encounter in the emergency room, seeing her for the first time in six years.</p><p>Octavia listens attentively. She rolls her eyes at some parts and scowls at him when he gets to the grocery store incident. His sister lets him know that was a dick move and he agrees with her. He regrets hurting Clarke purposefully like that when he should have been honest with her.</p><p>“Hold up,” Octavia stops him. “So you thought Madi was yours?”</p><p>“I thought she <em>could </em>be,” he explains. “The timing lined up. I got my hopes up that she was.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I took it out on Clarke after.”</p><p>“So, if she wasn’t pregnant, why did she leave town?”</p><p>“I’m getting to that,” Bellamy grumbles. “Stop interrupting me.”</p><p>She throws the dishtowel at him for that. It feels good to be able to laugh and mess with each other again.</p><p>Bellamy tells her everything. His jealousy about Lexa. His break-up with Echo. Reuniting with Clarke and becoming a family with the Griffin girls. He mentions spending Christmas with Abby and Marcus and how it somehow wasn’t a disaster. Octavia suspects retirement has mellowed Abby out.</p><p>When she’s caught up, it’s about noon. They’ve been talking for hours. Octavia isn’t a fan of cooking, so she suggests they go out for lunch. They take his car, driving to a local Italian restaurant a few blocks away.</p><p>They talk about their group of friends over their meals. Octavia is thrilled to hear about Harper being pregnant. He shows her pictures of the nursery that he and Clarke helped paint and decorate as a congratulations gift for Monty and Harper. Then Octavia catches him up on how her mentor/boss Indra is doing.</p><p>After lunch, Octavia’s phone rings while they’re in the car. A smile turns her face young and giddy. “Hey,” she answers the call. “Where are you?”</p><p>His sister arranges for him to meet Levitt. Octavia seems eager about them getting to know each other, so Bellamy doesn’t argue. He drives them back to her place where Levitt is waiting for them in his car.</p><p>Bellamy forms his opinion upon seeing him. It’s how this guy’s face lights up when Octavia jumps out of the car and goes to greet him. Levitt looks at his sister like there is nothing else that matters to him. He is tender as he cups her cheek, accepting Octavia’s kiss.</p><p>He checks his phone while they’re embracing. Clarke has texted him, <em>How’s it going? </em></p><p><em>Good, </em>he responds, smiling to himself. <em>O is in love. </em></p><p><strong>Clarke: </strong> <em>What??? With who? </em></p><p><strong>Bellamy: </strong> <em>her client. his name’s Levitt. they’re mushy and gross. </em></p><p><strong>Clarke: </strong> <em>We’re mushy and gross. </em></p><p><strong>Bellamy: </strong> <strong>😘</strong></p><p>Octavia is beckoning him out of the car. He slides his phone into his pocket and climbs out to meet his sister’s boyfriend.</p><p>The three of them move out of the cold into Octavia’s apartment. As Octavia takes Helios out for a walk, Levitt introduces himself with a handshake. Bellamy has his mind made up about the kid.</p><p>“I haven’t seen my sister this happy in years,” Bellamy tells him. “Don’t screw that up.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Levitt says solemnly. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”</p><p>Octavia returns ten minutes later, letting Helios back into the apartment. The dog bounces back and forth between him and Levitt. His sister watches them fondly from the doorway.</p><p>“I finally have all of my boys here.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Bellamy does his research and finds them a private cabin rental available for three days. They’ll have to drive some hours out of Arkadia to reach the rental nestled by the Blue Ridge Mountains. He shows Clarke photos of the log cabin and watches her fall in love.</p><p>Being Clarke, of course, she hesitates about taking off on a trip. They’ll have to coordinate their schedules with work and make sure her parents can watch over Madi.</p><p>Bellamy takes care of the planning for them. He arranges for a substitute to cover his classes, calls Abby to take Madi for the weekend, and finds out the days that Clarke isn’t on-call at the hospital. He books the trip, knowing Clarke won’t take the vacation for herself unless he forces her out the door.</p><p>They leave early on a Friday morning, driving through the quiet streets of their hometown. Clarke was up before him, checking that they had everything they need packed. She sits beside him bright-eyed, holding his hand during the drive, and pointing out the places that they pass by attached to memories of them.</p><p>Four hours later, they arrive on the rental property, the gravel road turning to the soft crunch of snow under the tires. The cabin sits on secluded acres of land, encircled by a forest of pine trees. They have a stunning view of the snow-capped mountains in the distance.</p><p>Bellamy parks on the property and they dismount, greeted by the brisk winter air. The luggage remains in the trunk as they take a look around and stretch their legs.</p><p>“It’s like a Christmas card,” Clarke notes, a smile on her lips as she takes in the log cabin.</p><p>She looks breathtaking against the winter backdrop. Her blue eyes are piercing and bright, her hair a soft golden halo grazing her shoulders. Bellamy admires her as Clarke walks around the perimeter, delighting over the outdoor fire pit and mountain views.</p><p>Bellamy carries their luggage inside as Clarke trails after him. The interior of the cabin is cozy with rustic décor, warm fur rugs coating the floor, and a stone fireplace. Large windows throughout the cabin offer views of the landscape.</p><p>As soon as Bellamy sets the luggage down in the bedroom, he heads straight to the fireplace to get a fire going. Clarke comes up behind him when he straightens up, laying a hand on his back.</p><p>“This is perfect,” she whispers, smiling warmly at him.</p><p>Bellamy’s mouth curves in response to that smile. Clarke has shed her thick outer coat, leaving her in a gray wool sweater and jeans. His hands cup her hips as the crackle and snap of the fire surrounds them.</p><p>“You like it, babe?”</p><p>She nods, leaning up on her toes to kiss him. “Thank you for planning all of this.”</p><p>After eating some of the food they brought with them, they have a lazy, comfortable afternoon inside the cabin. Stretched out on the couch, Bellamy reads his book while Clarke sketches, her sock-clad feet propped in his lap. A mood of contentment fills the cabin as they have nowhere to be or nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company.</p><p>The first night Clarke takes up cooking duties. She all but orders Bellamy to stay put on the couch when she gets up and prepares dinner in the small kitchen. They have the turkey chili that she makes on the stove. After cleaning up, Bellamy suggests watching a movie on his laptop.</p><p>“Sounds good,” Clarke agrees. “Let me just check on Madi first.”</p><p>Amusement tickles him. He refrains from pointing out Madi is perfectly safe and happy at her grandparents’ house. He knows Clarke doesn’t like to be parted from her daughter long. Getting her to agree to a three-day trip was a miracle.</p><p>Bellamy sets up his laptop on the wooden coffee table. He hears Clarke’s voice behind him, speaking to her mother briefly and then greeting Madi. The conversation lasts only a few minutes.</p><p>His brow arches when Clarke rounds the couch. “That was fast.”</p><p>She grimaces, an annoyed furrow lining her forehead. “My mom told me to stop ‘helicopter parenting’ and hung up the phone!”</p><p>A laugh escapes him. Bellamy can’t help it, even under the force of Clarke’s displeased glare. “I’m sorry, Princess,” he tells her. “You have to appreciate the irony in that—<em>Abby</em> calling you a helicopter parent!”</p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes. “It’s ridiculous! I just wanted to check in.”</p><p>He opens his arms to her. With a huff, she relents and lets him hold her, cuddling against his chest. The tip of her nose is still cold when it brushes his neck.</p><p>“Is Madi okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s having a great time with them.”</p><p>Bellamy frowns, stroking his hand up and down her back. “We don’t have to stay three days. We can go back whenever you want.”</p><p>Clarke shifts against his side, tipping her head back to look at him incredulously. “Hey, no. I can miss her and still want to be here. You have no idea how happy I am to have some alone time with you.”</p><p>“Me too,” he murmurs.</p><p>They cuddle up on the couch, laying a thick quilt over themselves. Bellamy picks a romantic comedy he knows she likes. He doesn’t care for them, too cheesy for his tastes, but he loves feeling Clarke’s cute laugh rumbling through his chest where she’s laying on him.</p><p>She laughs along and grumbles, reacting to the film like she hasn’t seen it a dozen times, and he falls a little deeper in love with her.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A part of Bellamy always suspected he would be happy living off the grid. He’s not a materialistic guy, not particularly attached to any devices or technology. He could live off the land if necessary. His wants for himself are simple. As long as he has the people he loves with him, he’d be happy.</p><p>His theory is proven right during the trip with Clarke. He’s at peace being with her, secluded from the nosiness of the city and chaos of regular life. His days are simple, filled by reading by the fire, watching Clarke sketch, and taking walks with her through the snow. He enjoys the crisp air in his lungs and the serenity of their secluded little cabin.</p><p>He’s content, not wanting for anything. They video chat with Madi and he talks to his sister on the phone. Bellamy knows he’ll see them when they get home, so he lets himself indulge in selfishly having Clarke all to himself.</p><p>He can tell Clarke is happy too. The stressful tension has left her shoulders. She hums to herself when she’s drawing by the window or making them hot chocolate from scratch on the stove. Her smiles are soft and frequent throughout the day.</p><p>When they’re out exploring the land on the second day, they spot a deer lurking the woods. Clarke’s excited gasp scares the creature away and Bellamy lets out a loud laugh at her adorable pouting. That’s when Clarke uses his distraction to scoop up a handful of snow and dump it on his head.</p><p>He chases her playfully around the property. They toss clumps of snow at each other in between breathless laughter and taunts.</p><p>Bellamy feels young and carefree again, grinning without inhibition. He remembers getting kicked out of the car wash with her years ago, how Clarke giggled for several blocks.</p><p>He and Clarke are serious people, used to carrying the weight of responsibility on their backs. Their childhoods were warped by loss and strife and that has shaped who they are.</p><p>But Clarke is the one person that can brighten him inside. She makes him feel alive and unburdened. She knows the darkness of his soul, as he knows hers, and how to chase his shadows away.</p><p>Eventually, they call a ceasefire and meet by the car. Bellamy brushes the snow out of her hair. Clarke is gazing up at him, a glint in her eye that hints at her about to get her way.</p><p>“What?” Bellamy asks, lightly tugging a strand of her hair.</p><p>She runs her gloved hands sensually up his torso. “We should warm up in that Jacuzzi tub.”</p><p>His brows raise in surprise. The back patio has a built-in hot tub.  They’re on their own out here, but he’s still surprised that Clarke is willing to get in when it’s outdoors.</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>Clarke grins, tugging on his sweater to get him closer, her lips pressing against his. They kiss leisurely, her tongue warm as it sweeps into his mouth. His body is freezing with the snow seeped into his clothes, but he’s not compelled to pull apart from her.</p><p>Clarke takes his hand, leading them around the cabin to the back deck. He turns the tub on, giving it a few minutes to heat up. It should be scalding if they’re going to get in.</p><p>Bellamy tests the water and nods when it’s hot enough. “Careful—” he starts to say.</p><p>His words trail off when he turns his head. Clarke has already shed her hat, gloves, boots and two layers. Bellamy’s eyes widen at the sight of her only wearing a bra in this temperature. She’s unbuttoning her jeans.</p><p>“Clarke!” He can see her shivering.</p><p>She glances at him. Her expression is a blend of exasperation and challenge. “You’re not going to make me get in by myself, are you?”</p><p>Bellamy shakes his head. He can’t find his voice, watching in disbelief as she stands on the wooden deck in her underwear. He’s about to throw his coat over her before she gets hypothermia. Then Clarke unclips her bra, her boyshorts pooling at her feet.</p><p>She walks past his frozen body and steps into the tub, wincing at its boiling temperature. Goosebumps cover her pale skin. Slowly, she sinks into the water and lets out a sigh.</p><p>Bellamy peels off his sweater. The air is freezing. He’s quick to remove his boots and clothes so he can join her, muttering under his breath about freezing his balls off. Clarke laughs and calls him a baby.</p><p>The water burns his skin when he sticks his foot in. He ignores the burn, sliding fully in until the water laps against his chest. Bellamy sits on the bench opposite of Clarke, soaking in the warmth that thaws him out.</p><p>“Why are you so far away?” Clarke asks, nudging his leg.</p><p>“This is, by far, the most insane thing you’ve ever done.”</p><p>She smirks at him. “What about when Jasper dared me to dye my hair pink before yearbook pictures senior year?”</p><p>His lips quirk in amusement. Oh, he remembers that. Clarke isn’t the type to turn down a dare. Especially a dare that also pissed Abby off.</p><p>Her mother was furious about Clarke’s hair being bright pink in her senior photo. She demanded Clarke to re-take the picture, but her daughter refused.</p><p>“That was awesome,” Bellamy admits. “<em>This </em>is probably dangerous to our health.”</p><p>Clarke crosses the hot tub to slide onto his lap, hooking her arms around his neck. “I’ll make it worth your while then.”</p><p>He has no actual complaints. She feels good pressed against him skin to skin. And he likes seeing Clarke like this—a trace of her younger self, sneaky, unburdened by stress or self-doubt. Under the surface of her responsible adult layer, there is still the seventeen-year-old girl he first fell in love with.</p><p>She sucks on his neck, teasing a sensitive spot with her teeth. Bellamy’s hands clench on the curve of her waist. His hard cock twitches at the feel of her soft tongue tracing his earlobe.</p><p>Another plus to this trip is being able to take their time with each other. There are no interruptions, no need for quickies before Madi finds them or brief head before work. They trade deep, stretched out kisses and drive each other crazy with lengthy foreplay.</p><p>Bellamy is losing his mind as Clarke works his cock in her small fist. She gives him tight, long pulls. Her other hand teases him, trailing touches over his balls and perineum. Low moans pour out of him.</p><p>“Princess, I’m gonna come if you keep that up,” he warns her gravelly.</p><p>Clarke hums, letting him slide out of her fist. He squeezes around himself and sucks in deep breaths.  Her hand folds over his, guiding the head of his cock to her sleek entrance.</p><p>She sinks onto him, taking him in slow. Bellamy lets her set the pace, watching the flutter of her lids as she embraces his cock. She feels incredible, tight heat and velvet-smooth walls.</p><p>Clarke rocks her hips against him, setting an even rhythm for them to make love to. He kisses her, fingers tightening in her hair, as their passion builds and builds. Their motions send water spilling out the sides of the hot tub. Bellamy forgets about the cold and the sunlight fading into dark skies, consumed by her.</p><p>Afterward, they climb out and hurry inside for a proper shower. Dinner is uncomplicated, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. They eat wearing fluffy bathrobes and then bundle themselves up in a blanket to lie on the couch. Clarke falls asleep only ten minutes into the movie he puts on. He carries her to bed.</p><p>On their last day, Bellamy wakes up before her. He props himself up on his side and watches Clarke sleep, affection washing through him. This is all he wants to wake up to every day of his life.</p><p>She stirs sometime later, blinking sleep out of her eyes. Clarke catches him staring and laughs. “I’m not interesting to look at.”</p><p>“I disagree,” he murmurs, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She leans into his touch and he smiles. “Marry me.”</p><p>Clarke stills, her eyes locked on his. “What?”</p><p>“Marry me,” he says again, his voice hoarse but firm, strong. “I’ve wanted to be your husband for a long time. I’ve wanted this, our lives together, raising a family, more than anything, Clarke. Do you want that too?”</p><p>Clarke smiles, tears glistening in her eyes. “You have to ask?” she teases. “God, Bell, of course I do.”</p><p>He has to tear away from their passionate kisses. Bellamy climbs off the bed and finds the spare pair of boots in his luggage. He hid the small box in there. They brought a single suitcase and he had to get creative.</p><p>He rounds the bed to her side, getting on his knee to present the ring the right way. Clarke looks like she’s about to tell him that’s not necessary, but she stops when he pops open the box. Her hand presses against her mouth, seeing his mother’s ring.</p><p>The ring is modest, not quite flashy. The band is thin gold, the diamond small. Bellamy cherished this ring, though, as his mother’s gift to him. He has always pictured it at home on Clarke’s finger.</p><p>She’s quiet, tears trickling down her face. Bellamy nearly panics. His pulse pounds in his throat. “If you don’t like it, I can—”</p><p>Clarke presses his lips, silencing him. “It’s perfect.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! </p><p>Here's my <a href="http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> and a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6f0NOzIsAnPwWvwtWPgbJd">playlist</a> for this story.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! ❤️ I'd love to hear your thoughts/reactions. </p><p>This fic is probably going to be around 14/15 chapters. I'll try to update weekly.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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